


Sumus Noctis

by tainted-tash (tainted_tash)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Badass Harry, Blood Drinking, M/M, Ron Bashing, Vampires, asshole Snape, descriptive assault, quick death, surprisingly understanding draco
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-05-24 10:41:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6150970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tainted_tash/pseuds/tainted-tash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being turned, Harry owns a nightclub with Hermione- his Childe. Events for him to have to find his Sire, having never known before, and with the help of an unexpected ally, he may just be able to survive it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Hello my beloved readers. This is the first Harry Potter multi-chapter story that I have written, so go easy on me :P This is my very first Vampire!Harry story, and I’ve had it on my hard drive for so long that I felt it was time to really get back to it. 

As always, all Harry Potter names and places belong to the very talented JK Rowling, I merely borrow her wonderful characters for my own amusement. No copyright infringement is intended.

Sumus Noctis

Chapter One

 

Harry danced around Hermione, serving the waiting witches and wizards their drinks in the nightclub they owned together: Sumus Noctis. For two years their nightclub had been thriving and with a huge capacity in space, they were still packed out most nights. Though it was a club that sold Muggle drinks, they catered purely to magical beings, not limited to witches and wizards.

 

After the war had ended, Harry had really struggled to find something to do with himself, preparing for the war was all he had known. Even though no one had really started training him until his fifth year, he had been fighting Voldemort since his first year at Hogwarts. Well, before even then if you counted the night of Halloween in 1981 when Harry's parents had been murdered, with fifteen month old Harry to go the same way.

 

Professor Quirrel had been their Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, but he was hiding a deadly secret, for he had shared his body with Lord Voldemort’s soul. Unable to take human form after Harry had defeated him at the age of one, he had no alternative but to join his soul with another’s body.

 

Going after the Philosopher’s Stone; Harry, Ron and Hermione had gone after him. Though they had thought it was their potions professor, Severus Snape. Misguided though they were, Harry once again stopped Voldemort, halting his return to power. But not without suffering himself, the attack on him had left Harry weakened for several days.

 

Harry smiled softly at the thought of his ex- potions professor. He had been so adamant that Snape had been on Voldemort’s side all along that it had taken a botched Occlumency lesson, resulting in his delve into Snape’s mind, for Harry to realise that the Professor was indeed on the side of the light. So much so, that he was lying daily to one of the darkest and most powerful wizards to ever live.

 

The music pounded away, his chest vibrating with it and he couldn't help the satisfied smile that crossed his lips. The club was in full swing and everyone was apparently having a good time. He'd not had to throw anyone out yet, which was in itself a success.

 

Seeing the bar clear of waiting patrons, their glasses full and cheeks flushed with fun and intoxication, Harry looked to Hermione and smiled. Pointing to the dance floor, he nodded and made a shooing motion for her to go have a little fun. She was going to do a quick floor walk, and maybe a dance or two, then collect the bottles and glasses. The customers all adored Hermione and the way she would always engage with them, dance, have fun, and also manage to keep a firm hand on the patrons who grew out of control after imbibing too much Fire Whiskey.

 

Leaning against the counter with the spirit bottles behind him, Harry returned to his memories of fifth year. After realising Snape was on their side, and that his mother had been the best friend of the snarky Slytherin, he’d apologised and fled the dungeons, tears in his eyes after seeing how cruel and demeaning his own father had been to Snape.

 

To have the image of his perfect father shattered was enough to send Harry into near hysterics. After a screaming match with his professor, Harry had been forced to see that even though James Potter had died trying to save his family, as a teenager, he was nothing more than a cruel bully. And nothing, not even his sacrifice to protect his only son, could redeem the fact that his father was a cruel child and in no way deserved to be forgiven for his actions.

 

He’d ran the entire way to Dumbledore’s office and practically screamed the password at the revolving staircase that would take him up to his office. As he’d approached the doors, magic had seeped from him, making everything in the near vicinity shake.

 

“Why?” Harry had shouted, cheeks stained with his tears.

 

“Harry? What in blazes is the meaning of this outburst?” Dumbledore gaped.

 

“How could you? You knew she was his friend and you twisted it all, just so you would have someone on the inside! If she could see you now, she’d be ashamed and disgusted with you, making him risk his life day after day!” He’d screamed.

 

“Who in the Gods names are you talking about, my boy?”

 

“Lily. My mother- and I am not your boy!” Harry hissed.

 

Blue eyes had flashed with something Harry couldn't identify. "Harry, I understand your pain, but you cannot shout the odds on something you do not have full knowledge on. Severus' love of your mother was as pure and real as any others."

 

Harry snorted and pointed a finger at him. "Except he wasn't in love with her, she was close enough to be his sister. But you made it into some perverse form of unrequited love to suit your needs and manipulate Snape into doing your bidding for the next decade and a half!"

 

Dumbledore had opened his mouth to respond but Harry had already stormed from the room, his office door closing with a slam so hard, the wood split down the centre.

 

Harry was startled out of his reverie to the sound of smashing bottles as Hermione threw them into the bottle bank, despite how many times he told her that she could calmly place them into the bin, instead of making him jump out of his skin.

 

“You okay, Harry?” Hermione asked softly.

 

“Yeah, just remembering fifth year when I confronted Dumbledore,” Harry sniggered.

 

“Oh, Harry! You gave the castle quite the scare,” Hermione chuckled. "All that shaking, half the school thought the entire castle was going to collapse."

 

Laughing with her, Harry turned to whoever had approached the bar. Seeing Ron Weasley looking at him, his smile faltered before falling completely. Not a face that he wanted to find in his club.

 

“What can I get you?” Harry asked neutrally, green eyes inexpressive. 

 

“Fire Whiskey, Ogden’s if you have it," the red head asked softly.

 

Harry nodded and turned to the optics behind him, he drew a single shot of Ogden’s Finest, levitating it back to Ron as he rung it through the till that resembled one from a Muggle store, except it would only answer to his or Hermione’s magical signature, so no-one could open the till and take the money from it. Not that he thought anyone would dare try it.

 

“Ten sickles, please,” Harry stated, still refusing to show any emotion to his once best friend.

 

Handing over the coins, Ron asked, “Mate, can we talk, please?”

 

“There’s nothing to say, Ron.”

 

“Harry, please, I’m sorry,” Ron pleaded.

 

“It’s not me you need to apologise to,” Harry snarled.

 

Looking over at Hermione, Ron sneered viciously, his entire face morphing from the pleading look it had just shown. “I have nothing to apologise for. She wanted it that night, she was all up for it, then suddenly went all shy and coy on me. She was asking for it the whole time.”

 

“It doesn’t matter if a woman changes her mind, wants to slow down or take it easy. No means no, Ron. What you did was rape.”

 

“I didn’t rape her! Don’t be so melodramatic, I already told you- she was up for it. She’s exaggerating.”

 

“Exaggerating! Really? That’s amusing, Ron. Or have you forgotten the visit that I had to pay to you? It was my house that she turned up at; bloodied, beaten, bruised and sobbing. I had to take her to St. Mungo’s to get her checked over, she was in such a state,” Harry roared.

 

Ron paled as he remembered when Harry had turned up at his flat, battering the door until he’d opened it. The argument that had ensued was finalised when Harry had punched Ron so hard, he'd broken three of the guy's ribs. Without another word, Ron took his drink, gulped it in one and disappeared into the throng of dancers.

 

Seeing Hermione’s tear stained face, Harry sighed. “Hermione, go take a break, I’ll cover the bar.”

 

Harry stood back and watched her move through the dancers, heading to the bathrooms. He eyed the crowd and made sure that everything was in order and nothing untoward was happening. He rarely got any trouble in the club, but occasionally someone felt brave on too much alcohol and took something too far. Seeing a flash of red hair, Harry saw Ron leave the club. He breathed a soft sigh of relief.

 

An hour passed and still Hermione didn't return, but it was fine. Harry was more than capable of locking the place up on his own if she had decided to go home. He really wouldn't blame her. Seeing Ron in their club, their haven, was nothing short of being stabbed in the heart all over again at his betrayal.

 

Harry still felt sick when he recalled the events of what led to Hermione coming to live with him. They'd had the bar for two years, but she'd lived with him for six months now. It was actually rather pleasant having company all the time, instead of roaming around Grimmauld Place during the day like some ghost.

 

He checked his watch and noticed the time. It was way beyond closing up, so he flipped the speakers to the automated message asking everyone to finish their drinks and leave for the night, wishing them a safe journey home and a ‘hope to see you again’. He looked around for Hermione as revellers drifted toward the doors and the club became quiet. He saw neither hide nor hair of her. Figuring she was must have gone home after all, he began the tedious task of cleaning up the floor. He didn’t keep bins anywhere other than behind the bar since he didn’t want unsavoury objects being left in them. It may be a Wizarding club, but unfortunately, many of the patrons had a thing for Muggle narcotics and Harry refused to have anything like that in his club. 

 

Once he was done with the bottles, he went in search of Hermione. He looked through the gent’s toilets first, making sure they were empty, then called out into the ladies that he was coming in. Finding them just as empty, he frowned. Leaving, he went out the side door exit and lit up a Mayfair, looking around to see if she was maybe outside instead. Hermione denied being a smoker, but occasionally lit up, especially if she was stressed. He blew out a stream of blue smoke and called her name into the night.

 

Instead of getting a reply, his ears were met with a muffled yelp, scuffling and soft crying. Harry felt panic begin to well up in him and as he sniffed the air, he located Hermione’s scent, among others, but she didn’t smell the same. Following her scent around past the large bins, he was confronted with a very scared Hermione surrounded by Ron and several former Death Eaters. Harry’s eyes narrowed coldly as Ron’s fist hit Hermione, first in the stomach then her face.

 

“Harry!” Hermione choked out, gasping for air, her hazel eyes wide and frightened.

 

Ron turned quickly. Facing Harry, he paled significantly. He tried to recover with a self-satisfied smile, but failed. The growl that vibrated through Harry's chest was enough to frighten anyone, the animalistic urge to protect his best friend rearing in him.

 

“Come to join your girlfriend, Potter,” a voice sneered, familiar from so many crossings with Voldemort.

 

Harry looked around and saw the face of Avery staring at him, a sneer twisting his lips. So much for the assurances of the Ministry that all the Death Eaters were no longer a threat to Harry. “Not particularly, Hermione is more than capable of taking care of herself.”

 

“Harry, please, just leave,” Hermione cried. "You can't stay."

 

“Well, why would I do that? On second thought, why haven’t you already dealt with this lot?”

 

“I can’t… Ron… He gave me something… I can’t feel you anymore.”

 

It took a moment for her words to sink in before her meaning smacked him like a freight train. The implications of what she was saying were catastrophic. He thought back to a few months ago when he’d been reading the Prophet and had come across an article about a new potion that had been created. If administered to a Vampire who had been turned within twelve months, they would once again become human.

 

“He gave you the Blood Reversal potion?” Harry hissed.

 

“That’s right, Potter. My Hermione won’t be some blood sucking monster, and I’ll kill the fucker that turned her - I’ll find the bastard!” Ron screeched.

 

“You’re still a witch, Hermione," Harry pointed out.

 

Bowing her head, she whispered. “He bound my magic, Harry. Until he either releases me or dies, I’m nothing more than a Muggle.”

 

"How long have you been out here?" He croaked, realising he'd left her here without bothering to come look for her-just in case.

 

"I don't know..."

 

Harry saw red. His rage reached boiling point as he charged past the Death Eaters at lightning speed and pinned Ron to the damp brick wall by his throat. He could see the red-head's pulse fluttering wildly under the skin of his neck, the rushing blood wafting a teasing scent up to his nose. It would be all too easy to just bend his neck and drain the man dry, but Ron's blood would serve nothing but to make him feel sick.

 

Snarling in Ron’s ear “If you don’t release her from the bind, I’ll rip your fucking throat out, Weasley - no-one harms my Childe.”

 

With that said, Harry pulled back and smirked at Ron while he allowed his fangs to slide through his gums. They shone brightly in the moonlight and Harry knew he looked deadly, the bone-white teeth were honed to sharp points, with a slight curve, his lips red against his pale skin and eyes brighter than ever. He was the perfect predator, and it showed.

 

“You want to kill her maker? Well, I’m right here - I’m her Sire.”

 

“You?” Ron squeaked.

 

“Yes, me. I was turned about a year after the war. It just about finished me off realising what had happened. If Hermione hadn’t found me, I probably wouldn’t be here. She asked me for so long to turn her, but I refused. I hadn’t chosen this for myself, but she insisted. In all honesty, I’m glad I did.”

 

Harry could see Ron’s eyes getting wider the more he talked. Keeping his focus on Ron, Harry let his peripheral vision sweep the Death Eaters in his near sight and continued. “Now, in your haste to take what wasn’t yours in the first place, you took my Childe from me. That is a very serious offence, and you must pay.”

 

“You can’t do anything to me! There are laws against your kind turning others!” Ron cried, his eyes flitting around wildly, seeking an escape from the predicament he had gotten himself in.

 

“At least Hermione got a say in it all. I wasn’t offered the same courtesy - I woke up to find myself alone and hungry. Besides, Hermione and I took the blood bond years ago, before the war, which made us already family. The laws don’t apply to turning family, or someone who wishes to be changed because they are dying.”

 

Other things were often taken into account when turning someone. Though Harry didn’t know all of them, he was only aware of the two he had recounted to Ron. Both Hermione and Harry were aware that the Bond formed between Sire and Childe could have taken on a sexual one, but most likely didn’t, due to their blood bond. Without it, it could have gone the other way, and Harry wasn’t sure he would have been able to fight what the Bond would have inevitably forced them into: a physical relationship. For starters, he didn’t bat for the opposite team, and he loved Hermione as a sister, nothing more.

 

Harry’s eyes flickered to Hermione and he noticed that she wasn’t looking at him, but somewhere behind him. Keeping his grasp on Ron’s throat, he swung them both around, holding Ron in front of him. He didn’t want to leave his back to him, he certainly wasn’t about to trust someone who would willingly stab him in it.

 

His eyes quickly focused on Avery as he swished his wand through the air and shouted “Avada Kedavra!”

 

Harry didn’t react as a blinding green light shot out of the end of Avery’s wand and struck Ron in the chest. He probably would have had enough time to move him out of the way, but why do that, when he could remove the problem of the bind on Hermione’s magic, and rid themselves of someone who would no doubt return to kill them again?

 

It wouldn’t have mattered if the curse had hit Harry - the Killing Curse couldn’t harm a Vampire. The curse worked by stopping the heart of whoever it hit and that couldn’t happen when a Vampire’s heart no longer beat. It did give him a rather nasty headache though, and it was probably not in anyone's best interests to piss him off further.

 

Releasing his grip on Ron’s throat, he watched dispassionately as his body crumpled to the ground. Snarling at the Death Eaters, they Disapparated quickly, Avery being the last to leave. Harry grabbed Hermione by the hand and yanked her back inside the club, pulling the door shut behind them, the clang of heavy metal slotting into place giving him a feeling of momentary relief.

 

Harry’s mind worked quickly as he thought back to the piece on the Blood Reversal potion; if memory served, the magic of the potion could be undone so long as the recipient was turned back to a Vampire within an hour of the potion having been drunk. All he had to do was remove all of the blood from Hermione’s body and refill her with his own. He could only hope that their bond taken in school hadn’t been destroyed by her being changed to human again, or they risked their Vampiric Bond becoming a sexual one.

 

It was risky though, he had no idea how long ago she had been given the potion, and replacing her lost blood with his would only make her sick, eventually killing her once he'd drained her past the point of return. He would either save her, or kill her.

 

“Hermione, we have little time, please don’t ask questions - just listen to me and decide,” Harry spoke fast as he locked the door they had passed through and erected his wards. “We have a one-hour window in which we can stop what happened and change you back to a Vampire. What do you want?”

 

“It’s too dangerous, Harry, you’d ingest the potion through my blood…”

 

“I said no questions!" He hissed before softening his voice. "The potion won’t affect me. As I said out there, it only affects those changed within twelve months, and I’ve been a Vampire for three years now, there is little it can do to me.”

 

Hermione nodded once. She’d never leave Harry’s side. She loved him too much - he was her brother in every way but through parents. Harry dragged her toward the bar and swiped his arm across it, sending bottles and glasses crashing to the tiled floor. He climbed up pulling Hermione with him. Seating himself, he drew Hermione to his spread legs and settled her against his chest. He remembered from last time that his touch had lessened the agony of her alteration. There had been rumours that the change was pleasurable, but Harry had yet to find a Vampire who had experienced it that way.

 

Mind you, not that he actually remembered anything about his transformation. He'd recalled snatched glimpses in dreams, but nothing that was concrete or that he could say was what had actually happened. For all he knew, it was nothing more than his mind making things up to fill in the blanks, his cries of pain, the burning feeling of his blood dying as his organs began to fail.

 

Cradling Hermione to him, he brushed her hair to one side, whispering in her ear, calming her. If she was agitated when he bit her, it would be all the more painful. 

Locating the original claiming mark, Harry’s fangs descended once more and he pierced the soft skin of her throat, hitting the carotid artery straight away. He heard her small groan of pain, and he rubbed soothing circles on her stomach with his free hand. He gulped as her blood flooded his mouth- it tasted strange, no doubt from the potion that was still swirling in her system.

 

Once he felt her begin to weaken, he pulled away from her and used a fang to create a small cut on his wrist. Watching his blood well up, he directed his wrist to her mouth. He felt her begin to suck and resumed his place at her throat. He drew more of her blood until he no longer tasted the potion. Harry pulled away and licked the twin puncture wounds closed, waiting for her to finish with his wrist.

 

As she became groggy, he lifted his arm away and licked his own incision closed, laying them both out side-by-side on the bar, wrapping his arms around her small frame as he waited for the change to begin. 

 

It was always subtle things at first. Her hair became less frizzy and more of a sort of loose curls that framed her face, the skin paled from the lack of circulation as her heart began slow down as his cells took over her body once more. He knew that her eyes would be sharpening, even the irises changing so they were hazel with little flecks of green in them.

 

Hermione soon began jerking and shaking as the last of her human cells were attacked by the Vampire ones. Her cries and screams becoming too much, she tried to claw at herself in pain. As his blood replaced hers, her body would try to fight the transformation, the pain so intense that many blacked out from sheer agony. 

 

He threw his legs over her lower body and squeezed her to him, trying to stop her thrashings, he couldn't allow Hermione to harm herself. It would be over before long.

 

Hermione’s screams tore through the empty club, echoing off the walls. Thank Merlin for silencing spells, Harry thought. The club was already warded with them since he didn’t want Muggle police turning up with complaints from nearby dwellers who were affected by the noise of a nightclub in full swing.

 

A last scream ripped from Hermione’s lips when her pain reached its peak, before she slumped next to him - her body relaxing as the change completed. Harry listened to her heart slow down, beating just a few times a minute before coming to stop. The familiar smell of his Childe returned and Harry was satisfied she was in no immediate danger to herself-or him.

 

Harry judged that it would be safe for him to back off, allow her a few moments to assimilate her last thoughts and become once again accustomed to being a hunter. He jumped down from the bar, waiting for her to open her eyes, his body tensed to spring into action should she be feral. He was almost afraid, dreading that the Bond would force them together. He knew it mustn’t happen- he’d release her before either of them were pushed into a compromising moment.

 

He resumed his watch of Hermione and saw her eyes open slowly, blinking a few times before getting her bearings. Her eyes eventually landed on Harry and she stared at him before rising and hopping off the bar. She took a few tentative steps toward him before running full pelt at him. It took all of Harry’s strength not to fall over at the force of her impact, her body slamming into his, causing him to stagger slightly.

 

“Oh, Harry! Thank you! I was so afraid we couldn’t go back to the way we were,” she sobbed. "I don't know how he even managed to get me with the potion."

 

“You don’t feel any different from the last time?” He asked. "And we'll deal with that later."

 

“No, nothing more than the usual urge to be around you. Seems our Bond remains like last time.”

 

Harry grinned and hugged her tightly to him, relief no doubt clear on his features, had Hermione been able to see his face. The Bond was very fickle- it could only be their blood ritual taken years ago that spared them from a more intimate relationship. He knew that the Bond could not be ignored, no matter how much Sire and Childe wanted to- not without the Sire releasing their Childe from their care. And no Sire in their right mind ever wanted to do that...except perhaps the one who had made Harry.

 

It was why a Vampire had to be careful when taking someone to be their Childe. It was all too easy to think the Bond would work in your favour, when it most likely wouldn’t, and there was so much pain when a Childe had to be released. Not physical pain, but more that there was an emotional emptiness, a deep loss that took so long to overcome. 

 

Not only that, but a Sire was not only responsible for their Childe’s well-being, but would also be held accountable for their misdeeds, especially law breaking. The Childe for committing the offence, but the Sire for not keeping them in line; they would both be punished severely.

 

Harry knew there would be repercussions for allowing Ron’s death, and no doubt for changing Hermione again- not that he really cared- with their blood bond still in place, it could not be disputed that they were still family. Besides, after what the piece of scum had done to Hermione, he would gladly have brought him back just so he could kill him with his bare hands.

 

He could also claim the right to protect his Childe, since she had been placed under threat and harm had come to her. Any Sire could protect their young should the danger potentially culminate in their death, and Harry was in no doubt that Ron would not have hesitated to kill her if she continued to refuse to cooperate with his wishes. The look in his once warm, brown eyes was nothing short of mad.

 

The pair broke apart and resumed Harry’s cleaning of the club. There wasn’t much left to do except clean up the glass that he had knocked to the floor and a few cleaning spells here and there. Thankful for small favours, both were exhausted and needed some rest. They could return to the house they shared, Hermione wouldn’t need to feed until tomorrow at the earliest- she’d taken more than enough blood from Harry. While Hermione finished wiping down the last of the tables, a knock on the main doors resounded through the club.

 

Frowning, Harry withdrew his wand and went to open up, Hermione following close behind with her hand around her wand, still in her pocket. He swung the doors open and was greeted with a sombre looking Dawlish and Tonks, Aurors for the Ministry of Magic.

 

“Wotcher, Tonks!” Harry grinned, using her usual greeting.

 

Tonks didn’t react to his smile or use of her standard greeting. Dawlish spoke first. “Harry James Potter, Sire to one Hermione Jean Granger, you are hereby under arrest for the unlawful killing of one Ronald Billius Weasley. You and Miss. Granger are to be taken into custody tonight and appear before the Ministry tomorrow morning for a hearing with the Minister for Magic and the Wizengamot.”

 

“Why is my Childe to be taken also? She has done nothing against the law,” Harry growled, an instant urge to protect her rising within him. 

 

“She is accused of attempting to use one of the Unforgiveables on Mr. Weasley. She will attend her own hearing tomorrow,” said Tonks sorrowfully.

 

“Let me lock up," Harry seethed, his eyes meeting Hermione's, a look of understanding passed between them.

 

Harry turned to Hermione, gesturing that she should wait outside for him. Harry pulled the heavy iron doors closed behind him, locked them and murmured his wards, mainly ones to repel Muggles from finding the place. If they approached the building, all they saw was a dilapidated block of flats. 

 

As soon as he’d finished, he felt magical shackles snake around his wrists, binding his magic. Tonks removed their wands from them, before both she and Dawlish took hold of them, Disapparating into the night with a crack to the Ministry. Harry could only hope that he would be given the chance to explain their actions, and it wouldn't be a head hunt like his fifth year and dealing with Umbridge.

There was no telling how things would go in the Ministry, but Harry was resolved to do anything he could to make sure that nothing happened to Hermione. If all else failed, he would take full responsibility for the events of that night. 

Hermione had done nothing wrong and didn’t deserve to be treat like a criminal. Harry could have saved Ron and had chosen not to. That was his burden to bear, not one that Hermione should have to pay the price for.

 

So here you have the first chapter of the Vampire!Harry story that I have been working on. I cannot say how long it will be, other than that I have four edited chapters (including this one) with a further three that need a little more work. But rest assured, this is far from over ;) 

Sumus Noctis- we are the night


	2. Chapter 2

Hey all, so I’m back with the second chapter of the story. My apologies for it being so delayed. Some home problems resulted in me losing my internet and as such, left me unable to post the next chapter. So, enjoy and I’ll see you at the end.

Unbeta’d

All Harry Potter related persons and placed are the property of JK Rowling. No copyright infringement is intended.

 

Sumus Noctis

Chapter Two

 

Harry and Hermione had been dropped into a Muggle style holding cell: damp, cold, miserable and disgusting. He would have thought that the Ministry wouldn't use something quite so primitive, especially so Muggle. Both were just grateful that they had been put together. The Bond when first struck, despite this being the second time, was at its strongest and neither would have been able to handle being apart for an extended period of time, especially against their will. Not only that, Harry was strong but he couldn't be worrying about Hermione as well as concerned for his own fate, and having his Childe feeling his concern through the bond wouldn't have done well for either of them.

He was at least thankful that their shackles had been removed. The cells had magic dampening spells on them, so there was no way that they could get out. And even if they could, Harry wasn't that stupid, it would only bring the wrath of the Ministry down on their heads further. He wasn't really of a mind to test his strength on them or to wind up having to flee the country. 

There was a single bed, though you couldn’t really call it that- it was more a metal slab with a thin mattress placed on top and a small woollen blanket folded up in the corner. A sink and toilet were at the other side of the cell, both made of stainless steel, thankfully located behind a partition, leaving them free to use the facilities without being watched. The whole cell reminded him of the cells in movies.

“What are we going to do?” Hermione whispered. "Harry, I'm scared, what if they decide we're a danger to everyone?"

“Whatever needs to be done. We tell them the truth- we did nothing wrong. At worst, it’ll come back on me, I’m the one that allowed Ron’s death. I didn’t move him out of the path of the curse,” Harry muttered. "I won't let anything happen to you though."

Hermione nodded, her eyes filled with fear. Harry felt how afraid she was- she’d never been in trouble with the Ministry before. He did find the accusation of Hermione using an Unforgiveable ludicrous, because even in the war, she had refused to use them.

“Don’t worry, I won’t let anything happen to you, Hermione.”

“It’s not me I’m worried about- I’m scared for you," she whispered. "It's you that would be held accountable, the Childe can often be let off."

“I need to ask though, why do they think that you used an Unforgiveable?”

Hermione smiled and shook her head. “It wasn’t me. Ron took my wand and tried to use the Imperious Curse on me. It looks like all your work on training me to block the curse came in handy after all.”

Harry cupped her cheeks and kissed her head, then hugged her tightly for a moment, giving her some comfort when his Childe was so close to breaking. She hadn't even been this frightened when Ron had attacked her, tonight or six months ago, and Harry didn't enjoy seeing her so terrified.

“There’s no need to be. If it came to the worst, I’d release you. You’d be able to carry on, find someone else to be your Sire, or take on a Childe of your own, if that’s what you wanted,” Harry told her.

“That’s not what I meant, Harry, and you know it,” Hermione sobbed, her hands trembling violently at the many thoughts of what could happen swirling in her head.

“Then what?”

“I don’t stay with you because just because you’re my Sire, but because you’re my brother. I care what happens to you. You know I don’t want my life without you in it.”

“I’ll be fine, Hermione. I doubt anything harsh will come of this,” Harry sighed. 

“Shacklebolt has to follow procedure. We’re only here because when Ron died, he’d have shown up in the Book of the Veil as an unnatural death, with my name next to his since I inadvertently caused his death. He has to follow protocol," he continued, giving a smile of comfort that he truthfully didn't feel.

“Doesn’t mean I have to like being thrown in a dirty, cold cell,” Hermione glowered.

Harry laughed at Hermione’s sudden switch to petulance- he knew neither of them could feel the cold, Hermione was really only upset at the cell not being clean. Despite being a creature that has to drink blood to survive, she hated getting anything on her clothes. 

It reminded him of the first time she had fed. Being inexperienced, Hermione had ended up tearing the artery instead of just piercing it, blood had flowed down her robes, and Harry had been forced to listen to a ten-minute tirade on how they were her favourite pair. The Muggle had survived, of course, Hermione was well known for her healing abilities.

Much of the night was spent alternating between complete silencing and talking just to fill it. Harry was growing agitated, his skin itched after having ingested the Blood Reversal Potion through Hermione's blood and he desperately needed to feed.

Looking out the cell window, Harry guessed it was around nine in the morning. The sky had been light for a couple of hours. If they were the first hearing of the day, then someone would no doubt be down shortly to collect one of them. Harry was curious to see who would be brought up first. Probably him, seeing as he had committed the worst of the crimes mentioned last night when Dawlish and Tonks had arrested them.

It was while Harry thought this that he heard footsteps approach their cell. A red-eyed Tonks appeared at the bars of the cell. He guessed she had been crying most of the night, her eyes looked red raw and the skin puffy, her normally cheerful face was pale and thin-lipped.

“It’s time, Harry. Hermione, I’ll have to collect you for your hearing separately. I tried to explain about your Bond and that being separated would be worse for you, but they wouldn’t listen. I’m sorry,” Tonks whispered brokenly.

“Don’t worry, it won’t be for too long,” Hermione said with a brightness that she truly did not feel. 

Tonks unlocked the cell door, waved her wand at Harry’s hands and he felt the shackles from the previous night bind his magic once more. Tonks threw him a look of apology, Harry just smiled softly and shook his head, signalling he was okay with it and understood that she didn’t want to place them on him. He knew that she didn’t have a choice- giving him small leniencies would cost her position as an Auror, and he knew she loved the job.

He turned to give Hermione an encouraging smile, leaving with Tonks for his hearing. He could feel the pull of the Bond being stretched as he walked further away from her, though not yet painful, it was uncomfortable. He could only hope that he was kept relatively near to her, the stretch of the Bond would be worse for her.

They walked a series of corridors before boarding one of the elevators. Choosing their floor, the elevator did a simple upwards climb before coming to rest two floors up. Harry gave a silent thanks that it wasn’t like just before his fifth year, when he had been brought in by Arthur Weasley for performing the Patronus Charm in front of his cousin, Dudley. The elevator had juddered and swung all over the place and it had taken every ounce of Harry’s will not to vomit that day. He was sure that he had been a curious shade of green by the end of it.

Courtroom ten was not a place he wanted to revisit, the room was done all in black and had an oppressive feel to it before one even entered the double doors. The only person who had actually spoken out for him besides Dumbledore had been Amelia Bones, someone he still liked to this day. 

At least by being only two floors up, he wasn’t as far from Hermione as he could have been, making it a little easier on them both- more especially his Childe. Harry took a deep breath, not that he needed it, and steeled himself to face whatever they threw at him.

Entering through a set of double doors, Harry was met with the stern faces of Ministry officials, the members of the Wizengamot, Shacklebolt, Aurors and other people who Harry could only assume were witnesses to the hearing. Tonks manoeuvred Harry to the chair in the centre of the room, leaving the shackles on- not that he really expected them to be removed. He faced the Minister and the Wizengamot.

“Harry James Potter, you have been brought before the Ministry and the Wizengamot on the charge of murdering one Ronald Bilius Weasley. How do you plead?” Shacklebolt began.

“Not guilty, Minister,” Harry replied calmly.

“Come now, Mister Potter. Your name appears in the Book of the Veil next to Mister Weasley’s name. You were clearly involved in his death. We also have an eye witness to the event,” Shacklebolt continued, his face taut.

“Yes, Minister, I was involved in his death, but I did not bring about his murder, that was another. For starters, I didn’t cast the curse that killed him,” Harry fired back, his eyes taking in the way Shacklebolt kept shifting around as if uncomfortable. Something was going on, and he knew straight away that it wouldn't bode well if things suddenly did not go his way.

“Mister Potter, we have an eye witness," a member of the Wizengamot repeated the Minister's words.

“I’m sure you do, Minister, but did they see me cast the curse? I think not. Do you have Avery in custody for casting the Unforgivable: Avada Kedavra?” Harry said, biting back the urge to snarl.

“Why would we have him in custody?” Shacklebolt asked shocked, a twitch forming under his right eye.

“You have Hermione Granger in custody for supposedly casting an Unforgivable. So if you know she cast one, then you must know that Avery cast one also. Though, in my honest opinion, Hermione is innocent."

There was a mass of murmuring among everyone in the courtroom- clearly no one had been made aware of that fact. All except Kingsley Shacklebolt, whose eyes suddenly looked anywhere but at Harry. He instantly knew that something was amiss, smelling trouble. Harry suspected who their eye witness was- he would stake his immortality on it being Avery.

“Minister, perhaps you could perform Priori Incantatem on my wand, the last spell I used before Ron’s death was Evanesco in the bar,” Harry stated as a matter of fact.

Without waiting for word from Shacklebolt, Tonks said the incantation and indeed, the last spell used was Evanesco, then Scourgify and finally another Evanesco. No record of Avada Kedavra being used. 

There was a sudden flurry of movement among the people sitting in the room. Tonks quickly grabbed her wand and shouted ‘Incarcerous'. Ropes shot out from the end of her wand and wound themselves around the body of Avery, knocking him to the ground.

Harry watched on in amusement as Avery was dragged back kicked and screaming. Dawlish went over, relieved Avery of his wand and cast Priori Incantatem, and sure enough, the last spell used was Avada Kedavra. It at least cleared Harry of Ron’s direct murder, but he still had to clear himself of being involved in his death, and though he planned on asking to have Veritaserum used, he was aware of the dangers of it. Unless asked a direct question about something, he would be able to omit certain information- however, if asked a direct question, he would be forced to tell the truth, and the Ministry unfortunately had a habit of bringing up subjects not pertinent to the questioning.

Dawlish used a silencing spell, stopping Avery’s screaming. Shacklebolt turned back to Harry and resumed questioning him. “So clearly you didn’t cast the Killing Curse,” Shacklebolt sighed, a tightness about his mouth that belied his suddenly calm tone.

Giving a damn good impression of Professor Snape, Harry growled. “Obviously.”

“Yes, well, it still doesn’t clear how you were involved in Mister Weasley’s death. How do you explain yourself there?” Shacklebolt queried.

“It’s a long story. It would be easier explained through seeing the memory,” Harry sighed. A memory was like watching a film, no-one would be able to know his feelings or intentions at the time.

“We don’t accept memories as a form of evidence Mister Potter.”

“Really?” Harry scoffed. “That’s interesting because Albus Dumbledore’s memories were accepted when clearing Professor Snape of Death Eater activity and the murder of Dumbledore.”

“They were mitigating circumstances, Albus wasn’t here to speak for himself.”

“No, but his portrait would have been able to," Harry retorted evenly. "Forgive me, Minister, but you seem to be rather pointedly avoiding any way in which I am able to prove innocence."

“We are not here about Severus Snape or Albus Dumbledore, Mister Potter. We are here about Mister Weasley’s death,” Shacklebolt roared, ignoring Harry's final comment.

“Fine. Use Veritaserum then.” Harry remained calm.

“Veritaserum doesn’t work on your kind,” Shacklebolt spat.

The Minister quickly realised his mistake the moment he finished speaking- he had just openly insulted Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, and a Vampire. Not only had they recently passed a move that allowed more reasons for a Vampire to take on a Childe, but they were immensely powerful creatures. A Vampire wasn’t someone they wanted a grudge to hold over them.

“My kind?” Harry hissed, his eyes cold. “My kind being a Vampire? Let me assure you Minister, I had no choice in becoming one. I woke up alone and changed, I have no idea who my Sire is!”

“Veritaserum doesn’t work on Vampires.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it! The only people that it doesn’t work on are those with strong Occlumens abilities and Werewolves, who have a natural barrier to Veritaserum and Legillimency. Perhaps if you bothered to do your homework, you would know this.”

“Dawlish.” The Minister’s voice rang out. "Bring a vial of Veritaserum, we’ll give it a try.”

He reappeared a few moments later with a small vial of clear liquid. Harry remembered from his fourth year when Snape had threatened to use it on him. He thought Harry was stealing ingredients to make Polyjuice Potion, though it had turned out to be Alastor Moody, or rather, his imposter. Dawlish uncorked the bottle and tipped a few drops into Harry’s mouth.

“What’s your name?” Shacklebolt asked, testing out the reaction.

“Harry James Potter,” Harry’s emotionless voice drifted over the room, a sort of fog hazing his mind, making him feel somewhat lethargic-relaxed, even.

“Who are your parents?”

“Lily Evans and James Potter, they’re dead now.”

“Did you see Ronald Weasley before he died?”

Harry gave a momentary squirm. “Yes, on a couple of occasions."

“When?”

“Twice in the last six months, before then nearly every day."

“What happened on both those occasions?” Shacklebolt asked, nearly pouncing on the information.

“The first was six months ago. I went to his flat and told him in no uncertain terms that he was to stay away from Hermione. He was never to approach her again, under any circumstances. The second was in my club last night, when he tried to apologise to me,” Harry answered.

“Why did you tell Mister Weasley to stay away from Miss Granger?” Shacklebolt asked confused.

“Six months ago, Hermione turned up at my house, bloodied, beaten and badly hurt. I had to take her to St. Mungo’s to be treated. Upon treating her, they found that she had been forcibly entered. He raped her.”

They was a unified gasp in the room, no-one had expected that. If anyone decided to look up Hermione’s medical records at St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries they would see that she had been admitted with severe bruising, many wounds and a rape examination had taken place. 

“Are you positive Mister Weasley raped her?” Shacklebolt asked, his deep voice giving away his disbelief at such an accusation.

“Of course I am.”

“How so?”

“When I went to his flat to confront him about it, he said that she had wanted him, that things had just gotten a little out of hand. I told him I didn’t understand how things could get so out of hand that her clothes were torn to pieces, her body covered in cuts and that the hospital were having to perform a rape examination on her,” Harry spoke in a monotone.

“Was there any violence involved when you went to Mister Weasley’s residence?”

“...yes. I did lose my temper and punch him." Harry admitted after a brief pause as he wanted to fight the potion, but the relaxed feeling took back over and words spilled from his mouth.

Shacklebolt blinked. "Do you not see how we can make the conclusion that you are responsible for his death?"

Harry shook his head. "I had no motive until you learnt what Ron did. But even then, Hermione is more than capable of taking care of things, she doesn't need me to deal with him."

Shacklebolt decided to move the line of questioning on. “So when he turned up at your club to apologise, what happened?”

“Nothing eventful. I said that he needed to apologise to Hermione, not me.”

“He refused?” Shacklebolt asked.

“Yes.”

“Very well. Take me through what happened just before he was killed, and when he died.”

Harry blinked a moment before responding. “Hermione was upset after what Ron said, so I told her to take a break. The last I saw of her, before later on, she was headed to the bathrooms. When I closed up for the night, I cleaned up for a bit and went to look for her. I checked the toilets but she wasn’t in there. I went out for a smoke and called out for her. When she didn’t answer I heard yelping and scuffling. I looked for her, found her surrounded by Ron and former Death Eaters. Avery, Nott, Crabbe, Goyle, both junior, and a couple of others that I didn’t recognise.”  
Harry paused while someone jotted down the names mentioned.

“Carry on, Mister Potter.”

"It came to light that he had used the Blood Reversal potion on her, changing her back to a human. He’d also bound her magic to his, essentially leaving her no better than a Muggle or a Squib. Ron threatened to kill her maker, so I grabbed him by the throat and held him against the wall, told him that if he wanted to kill her Sire then he had better kill me. When I looked over at Hermione, she was staring at something behind me. I kept hold of my grip on Ron, turned us both so he was in front of me. I didn’t want my back to him, and I didn’t trust him. I saw a flash of green light and Ron went limp in my grasp. Avery had cast the Killing Curse, and because Ron was in front of me, it hit him.”

“Back up a moment, Mister Potter. Blood Reversal potion?” A member of the Wizengamot asked, a frown marring his young features.

Harry nodded. “Yes. It’s a potion that was created a year or so ago, though I don’t remember who by. If the drinker takes it within twelve months of being turned into a Vampire, then they return to being human once more. There is an out to it, though. You can become a Vampire again, so long as you are bitten and changed in an hour. If it goes beyond that, you can never become one again. I suppose it’s a sort of loophole, just in case it was ever forced upon someone.” Harry shrugged. 

“Back to Mister Weasley’s death. It was an accident?” Shacklebolt hastily turned the questioning back around to Harry.

“Yes.”

“Then how do you explain your name next to his in the Book of the Veil?” The Minister all but accused him of lying.

“I can only assume it was because I was holding onto Ron when he died. I did have him held by the throat,” Harry said almost flippantly.

There was a brief smattering of voices before a member of the Wizengamot stood and addressed the Minister. “Minister, we of the Wizengamot have heard all that we need to, allow us a few minutes to decide a verdict.”

Shacklebolt looked infinitely uncomfortable. "Surely there is more to this than is being said."

"That is not for you to decide, Minister."

With that said, a silencing spell was erected and Shacklebolt directed Dawlish to give the antidote to Harry, who sat patiently and waited for his fate to be decided. It wasn’t long before the Head of the Wizengamot stood.

“We are all agreed that one Harry James Potter be found not guilty and cleared of all charges. Additionally, based on what Mister Potter has told us, we move to have Miss Granger cleared of all charges and released back into the care of Mister Potter.”

“Forgive me, sir, but Miss Granger is charged with the attempted use of an Unforgivable, that is a most serious offense,” Shacklebolt cried out.

Harry frowned at the Minister's behaviour. There was a time when he and Shacklebolt had gotten along brilliantly, and now, it seemed that he would do anything to have Harry silenced. 

“I know for a fact that Hermione would never use an Unforgiveable. Even during the war, she wouldn’t use them, it just goes against the nature of who she is,” Harry said bluntly.

“Be that as it may, the decision lies ultimately with us, and we have agreed that due to Miss Granger’s most unfortunate circumstances, and while we do not condone vigilante acts, we do appreciate what she has been put through. For lack of better words, a lot of us would do the same if we were ever put through something like that. Do not test our patience, Minister,” snarled the Chief Warlock.

Shacklebolt lowered his head in submission in acknowledgement of what he had been told. Tonks left the courtroom and returned moments later with a terrified Hermione. Harry felt his magical shackles release him and his magic flow through his body again. He rushed to Hermione and pulled her into his arms, stroking her hair. Fearing the worst, Hermione began to sob uncontrollably.

“I thought you might want to tell you herself,” Tonks whispered in his ear.

Hermione let out a wail, her tears flowing faster down her face. Despite popular misconception, Vampires could cry. Harry held her all tighter to him, whispering gibberish in an attempt to calm her enough so she would listen to him.

“It’s okay, everything’s fine, we’re free,” Harry crooned.

“What? I don’t understand!” She sobbed.

“The Wizengamot decided that we were in extreme circumstances, Ron’s death was an accident, and your use of an Unforgivable has, for lack of better words, been overlooked.”

“Yes, and don’t make us regret our decision, Miss Granger.” The Head called out.

Hermione hiccupped and nodded. “I won’t, thank you so much.” She didn’t bother denying that she had used one, it had been struck from her charges and she did not wish to rile up the Wizengamot.

Harry held her face in his hands and kissed her forehead. “I told you I wouldn’t let anything happen to you, silly girl.”

Hermione laughed softly, thanking the Gods that they had been on her side. She didn’t want to think of the alternative outcome. The mere idea of not having Harry in her life crushed her to the core. 

Everyone stood and advised that they were free to leave whenever they wished, no-one wanting to force the pair to part when Harry was obviously comforting her. As they turned to leave, Mr. Weasley burst through the doors red-faced and stalked straight towards where Hermione and Harry stood. When he reached them, he struck Hermione across the cheek, the force making her head snap to one side.

He knew she didn’t feel anything, but it didn’t lessen the shock. Arthur Weasley raised his hand to strike her again, and Harry watched as Hermione did nothing, allowing him the chance to strike her again. Harry growled low in his throat. She may have felt guilty over Ron’s death but he certainly didn’t. Arthur Weasley’s son was nothing more than a rapist.

“You killed my son!” Mr. Weasley screamed.

Tonks tried to reach them before all hell broke loose, but Harry was too fast for her. He grabbed Mr. Weasley by the front of his robes and hoisted him off the ground, baring his fangs at him and snarling in his face.

“You caught me off guard the first time, and Hermione may have been willing to let you hit her a second time. I however, am not! Don’t you ever touch my Childe again, or I swear, Mrs. Weasley will have to plan for two funerals!”

Hermione grabbed Harry's collar and yanked him back. "Harry! Do not give the Wizengamot a reason to change their minds!" She hissed.

Harry let the man go and shook his head. "There was a time I looked up to you, a time when you saw no creature as less than a human. But now we are different, that all suddenly changes?"

Mr. Weasley lowered his head and sighed. "Harry, please, try to understand where I'm coming from."

Harry snorted derisively. "Don't give me that, sir. I didn't have a choice when I became a vampire, but you all turned your backs on me."

"It's not like that, Harry..."

"The hell it isn't. You've made your position perfectly clear. I'm sorry about, Ron, I really am. He was my best friend at once stage, until he hurt Hermione beyond all form of redemption. If you can forgive your son for such an atrocious crime, you could have still been there for me, you always told me I was like a son to you. It's obvious that no longer applies. I can't help what happened, Mr. Weasley, I wish it hadn't happened, but I'm stuck with it now," Harry growled. "But if you hurt my Childe again, I won't hesitate to tear you limb from limb."

Mr. Weasley sighed and shook his head miserably. "I understand your plight, I truly do. But how can you defend her? My son may have been heavy handed but he would never have laid a finger on her."

Harry snarled and advanced on him. "You dare call me a liar?" He bared his teeth and his fangs slid into view. “Do you really think that I would make something like that up?”

Hermione grabbed the back of his shirt and waistcoat, yanking as hard as she could, to no avail. “Harry, it isn’t worth it. Let’s just go home.”

Arthur looked into Harry’s eyes and shook his head. “Make it up? No. Exaggerate? Yes.”

Harry roared in fury and reared back to strike.

“Harry, no!” Hermione screamed.

 

So, there you have it. I’m due to have my internet reinstalled next week so I’m hoping to be more on track with the updates. Until next time :*


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For those who do not wish to read a graphic assault summary of a rape victim, or the rape scene itself, I suggest you completely overlook this chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, for those who do not wish to read a graphic assault summary of a rape victim, or the rape scene itself, I suggest you completely overlook this chapter.

Sumus Noctis

Chapter Three

 

“Harry! No!” Hermione screamed, pulling hard on his shirt and waistcoat, begging him to walk away before he did something stupid. Strangely, the Wizengamot did nothing to stop him, merely watching him curiously.

She knew Harry wouldn’t hurt Mr. Weasley without cause, but scaring him senseless wasn’t the way to go. The Wizengamot were still gathered, and while they did not interfere yet, if Harry went too far, they wouldn't hesitate to have him destroyed.

“He's pretty much making you out to be a liar, Hermione,” he growled, glowing eyes never leaving the Weasley patriarch.

“I know, but Ron probably didn’t tell him the whole story, if anything at all." 

“I know the whole story!” Mr. Weasley growled. "Ron already filled me in, that you were willing but the moment it was over, you turned on him."

Harry growled louder. Arthur had been somewhat calm until now, besides striking Hermione, why was he suddenly being aggressive now? But, Harry stopped to think, grief made people act in strange ways, he could certainly attest to that when Sirius had died.

“No, you don’t, Mr. Weasley. I had to take Hermione to St. Mungo’s to be treated. He brutalised her, raped her and nearly fucking killed her!” Harry hissed dangerously. "The damage he did to her was the likes of nothing I have ever seen before."

Arthur shook his head, disbelieving what he was being told. “Ron would never hurt anyone,” Arthur whispered, but his voice held less conviction that it had a moment ago.

“Keep him here, Harry, I’ll be back in a few minutes," Hermione murmured softly.

Hermione didn’t wait on a response as she left the room. Harry retracted his fangs and moved away from Mr. Weasley, sat in the chair he had earlier vacated. He knew that she had gone to get her medical record; the proof of what happened that night six months ago lay in her file.

Tension ran high in the silent room as they awaited the return of Hermione, Harry himself grew more agitated as the bond stretched between them, like an elastic band pulled too tight. The doors banged open, signalling her reappearance. Passing the file to Harry, he opened it and read the extensive list of her injuries from Ron’s vicious attack.

“Tell me if your sweet son was so saintly and innocent after this. Break of the left radius, last two phalanges of left hand broken, fracture of the right femur, broken nose, right zygomatic bone fractured, bruising consistent with being held with force visible on both arms, several scratches on both thighs, lower lip lacerated in two places, several ribs cracked- one broken and piercing the left lung, bite marks on both breasts, deep tearing within vaginal canal, some scratching visible on vaginal opening, anal fissures apparent- small inner tear visible,” Harry’s voice became thick with emotion as he concluded the list, the injuries so substantial that, technically, no human should have survived the amount of agony they would have been in. 

No matter how many times he went over the injuries his best friend sustained that night, it never failed to hurt him deeply. To remind of the fact that he could have come so close to losing Hermione that night, it was devastating. In his mind’s eye, he could see her in his living room, trembling, her body so broken she had collapsed in seconds of landing from a very risky Apparition.

Hermione cried softly off to the side while Arthur looked to Harry in horror, blue eyes filled with tears and mouth flapping wildly, no sound emerging. If it had been disputed before that Ron was guilty, it certainly wasn't now. There was a time he was Harry’s best friend, an innocent boy with a jealousy issue, but time had changed him and the jealousy evolved into something ugly and cold.

“Your son destroyed Hermione’s body so badly that the Healers of St. Mungo’s struggled to save her. She lost so much blood because of internal bleeding from her broken bones, and the rib that punctured her lung, that she bled out faster than they could pour Blood- Replenishing potions down her neck. I had refused for years to make Hermione like me- I didn’t choose this life for myself, and I couldn’t live with myself if I condemned her to it. She begged me again that night and I still refused - until the Healers told me that although they would never normally allow a Vampire to be created in their hospital, nothing short of a miracle would save her. I would rather damn whatever soul I have than live without Hermione- she is in every way my sister.”

Harry watched while the hope that had been on Arthur Weasley’s face died out- the torch he held for his son’s memory extinguished. If it had been his child that was being accused of such horrible crimes, he too would cling to any hope that the accusers were wrong.

Looking to Arthur in pity, Hermione asked if they may use the Pensieve to show him what Harry said was true, how she sustained all the injuries. It was the only way he was ever going to fully believe what his youngest son had done.

“This is most irregular, Miss Granger, however we will allow it.” The Chief Warlock spoke, his wand swished and a Pensieve appeared by their side.

Nodding her thanks, she pulled the memory out with the tip of her wand, and placed it in the Pensieve that had been summoned for her use. Harry dragged Mr. Weasley from the chair and placed him at the Pensieve. All three of them stuck their heads into the murky substance that was Hermione’s memory, falling into it while Harry prepared himself for once again seeing his sweet friend in such a tortured mess.

Harry tried to look on emotionlessly when in reality he wanted to kill something and cry. She was so happy, laughing at something Ron said and flirting playfully with him. But Ron didn’t want things to end there, and when Hermione realised he wanted more, she backed off and told him no.  
Things took a nasty turn when she tried to leave, her eyes wide in fear as Ron ranted and raved about her putting out for others but never for him. In truthfulness, Hermione had only just at that point considered a physical relationship with Ron, and he ruined it all.  
The red head grabbed her as she passed him to get out of the flat, his large hands clamping on her arms and dragging her backwards, forcibly throwing her on the bed.  
He watched while Hermione was beaten relentlessly, large fists smashing into her body, the skin splitting and blood flowing. Ron entered her, the sight of Hermione in such misery and pain enough to make Harry want to vomit. Her screams of agony would haunt him forever, her face a splotched mess of misery and horror.

He looked to Hermione, tears streaming down her face as Ron flipped her over before forcing himself into her anally. The minute he grunted his release, he climbed off her, threw a sneer over his shoulder and left the room. She gathered her clothes, not even bothering to put them on and Disapparated from the room with a crack. They pulled from the memory and Arthur fell to the floor and vomited.

Harry knew he may regret what he said next. “I couldn’t have prevented Ron’s death, Mr. Weasley, but I am not sorry he is gone from our lives. What he did is beyond disgusting.”

“I’m sorry, Hermione, so sorry. I need to go home and talk to the others, Molly will refuse to believe it, so can I borrow that file?” Arthur choked out.

“Yes. It’s a copy anyway.”

Arthur moved to hug Hermione, but she backed away shaking her head. It would probably be a long time before any red head could touch her, let alone a Weasley. On top of that, Hermione didn't do so well with being touched by any person, be it male or female.

“I wish you both the best together; you clearly make one another happy.” Arthur smiled weakly.

“I beg your pardon?” Hermione hissed, her eyes narrowed in fury.

“Well I can see why you would let him change you, then stay with him. You love him.” Arthur stated.

He didn’t get the chance to say anything more before Harry grabbed his robes once again. “Did you not hear me earlier? Yes, I love Hermione- as a sister! There is nothing romantic between us, there never has been nor will there ever be. If she wanted to leave, all she need do is ask. She doesn’t float my boat,” Harry hissed.

“You’re gay?” Arthur paled.

“Yes. You got a fucking problem with that?”

Arthur shook his head violently and Harry released him with a disgusted look. “You make me sick. One of your own sons is gay, I bet you didn’t go white when he told you. I’m sure you clapped him on the back and said you were proud. You’re nothing more than a fucking hypocrite,” Harry sneered.

Arthur backed away, muttering “Such a waste, poor Ginny.”

“What was that Weasley? A waste? It’s not my goddamn fault your daughter spent all her time at Hogwarts following me like a lost puppy. Her attentions were never wanted but no matter how many times I told her, she refused to listen. If she still holds a torch for me, that's her problem, I’ve been gone for years,” Harry bellowed.

It took all of Hermione’s strength to hold Harry back, stopping him from tearing Arthur Weasley’s head off. She could feel the rage emanating from him as it thrummed along the Bond they shared.

“Harry, calm down! I doubt the fact your gay bothers him, you know Ginny always held a torch for you.” Hermione soothed, repeating his phrasing.

Harry paused in his verbal tired and struggled to take a moment and realise how feral he had become. He hugged her and whispered his thanks, once again grateful that her level-headedness would save him from putting himself in trouble. It would have done him no good to go on a rampage. He wasn’t so sure the Wizengamot would be lenient a second time. He really needed to learn to reign his emotions in.

“Come on, we both need some rest. Let’s go home. You need to feed as well, all this has put too much on your body, I don't think it's safe to have you wait until tomorrow.”

Hermione nodded and wrapped an arm around his waist as they left the room together, neither looking back at Arthur. A juddering ride in the enchanted elevators saw them outside with Harry trying not to throw up. He hoped with fervour that he didn’t have to ride one of them again anytime soon, if ever.

Harry walked them both to a nearby Apparition point, pulled Hermione in front of him, wrapped an arm around her waist. He glanced at the sky and saw it matched their moods- grey and dull. He spun on his heel and both disappeared from view, taking them to Grimmauld Place.

He’d wondered why Hermione hadn’t been back to her flat since the attack and it was while being in her memory that he realised why. All the times he had used Occlumency to help build walls in her mind, stopping the nightmares from keeping her awake all the time. He’d assumed that the attack had taken place in Ron’s flat- he’d been wrong. She had been savaged in her own home, her only safe haven taken from her. Tomorrow he would see what she wanted done, most likely he’d move the things she wanted to keep to Grimmauld Place and get rid of the rest, selling the place.

Once the house appeared in front of them, Harry led them straight into the main living room, which was soon warmed with a roaring fire. The once oppressive room had been redecorated and the ridiculous amounts of furniture removed to give it a much more open, comfortable feel.  
He walked them to the black velvet couch and drew Hermione into his lap. He knew she needed contact after her ordeal with Ron then having to spend the night in the Ministry cells. Plus, there was the wait to find out if Harry was going to be punished and the awful strain that must have put on her.  
He pushed her head to his throat and encouraged her to feed, his fingers massaging her skull in a soothing motion. He sighed when her fangs pierced his throat, feeling satisfaction that she was feeding. He allowed her to drink for a few minutes longer than necessary before giving her hair a soft tug to stop her. He felt her tongue soothe over the wounds to heal them.

Hermione shifted around until she settled with her head under his chin, her ear directly over his heart- though it didn’t beat she felt safe that way. He was hungry, but would wait until she fell asleep before going hunting. He wasn’t going to leave her the way she was feeling, she needed comfort that only he could provide.

It took half an hour of stroking Hermione’s hair before he felt her completely relax and he realised a moment later that she had fallen asleep. Shifting her, he lifted her in his arms and laid her out on the couch, covering her with the mink blanket that hung over the back. He wrote a quick note saying he had gone hunting and would be back soon, just in case she woke before he returned. Harry doubted that she would wake anytime soon, but he didn’t want her to panic when she found he wasn’t in the house.

Making sure the wards were strong, Harry ran a short distance from Grimmauld Place, stopping at a Muggle pub- The Red Lion he noticed from the overhead signpost. He waited until he saw a heavily intoxicated woman leave the establishment, her gait was unsteady, more than likely from a combination of too much alcohol and her ridiculously high heels. Fuck me heels was what Hermione called them. He followed her down a side alley, and cleared his throat just loud enough for her to hear.

Startled, she spun around and tried to focus her bleary vision on Harry. “Oh, you startled me!”

Harry smiled to himself at her slurred words, keeping his face friendly and almost childlike. She’ll do. “My apologies, are you alright?”

“Fine. Just perfect now you’re here.” She purred drunkenly. It occurred to Harry that she was either very, very drunk, or an off-duty prostitute, though he was swayed more to the latter judging by her outfit.

Harry approached her with a wider smile, hands spread out in a 'I am totally harmless' way. He reached her and she tried to lean in for a kiss, her painted mouth looking horribly smudged. Harry dodged to her side and pinched the pressure point on the back of her neck. She gave a grunt of pain and passed out, her legs giving out from under her. Harry caught her before she could hit the ground, lowered her to the cleanest part of the alley he could find and swiftly bit her soft neck, sighing when her blood hit his taste buds.

It wasn't really the kind he wanted to satisfy himself, but unfortunately, with Hermione so recently transformed-again- he could not afford to hunt for a more suitable donor. The Muggle's blood would suit his needs for the moment, but the taste of alcohol on it made him grimace. It was sweet, cloying, making him gag slightly, but it was the best he was going to get for the moment.

He drank steadily, but stopped when he felt her heartbeat start to slow down- he didn’t want to kill her, plus he really couldn't afford to have the Muggle police- or Aurors- searching for him. He pulled back and lapped at the twin wounds, closing them. He laid her propped against the wall, slumped over a little, making her look as though she had passed out from her alcohol intake.

Harry could hear other voices approach and was quick to disillusion himself, making him invisible to everyone. He walked past the Muggles that had just appeared in the alley and saw them run to the unconscious woman, knowing they would help her. He returned his focus to leaving the alley to make it back to Hermione when he saw a man with long black hair, eyes like onyx and pale skin that shone in the moonlight.

“Potter?” He whispered, his eyes focused on Harry, directly on him, not just the area he stood. 

Harry knew that he could be seen - Snape had an aptitude for seeing through Disillusionment charms. Had he been alive, his heart would have been hammering in his chest, but he could smell the fear coming from his former professor. He backed away as fast as he could before he fled, running as fast as his Vampire speed would allow. He made it home in a matter of seconds, bolted into the house and threw the door closed.

This was not good. His being a vampire was not particularly wide known knowledge among the Wizarding world, and Harry was perfectly happy to keep it that way. He had worked hard to dispel rumour and make sure that he appeared at nearly every kind of charity event going.

Judging by the fear he had smelt on Snape, there was no way that he didn’t know what Harry was- or what he had just done. In that moment, Harry had never felt more disgust for what he was.

“Harry?” Hermione’s voice called out, her tone gruff from sleep.

He walked through to the living room calling out “just a moment” before he appeared in front of her. Hermione took one look at his face and jumped from the couch rushing to Harry. She wrapped her arms around him and drew him in for a hug.

“What’s the matter, Harry?” She whispered.

“I was hunting. I uh… Professor Snape saw me. I had a Disillusionment charm up. I swear I had no idea he was there. A Muggle pub isn’t the first place I would think to find him!” Harry cried.

“Hush now. Were you already finished? Could he have seen?”

Harry moaned quietly and bit back an urge to whimper. “I think he might have done. Hermione…I could smell his fear- I’ve never seen someone have eyes so wide. He’ll think me some kind of monster, the Daily Prophet will be writing all about me again by morning. I know full well he’s going to run straight to the papers with this, anything he can use to humiliate me.”  
Harry had made it so only the Wizengamot, the Ministry and a select few friends were aware of his…affliction. He knew it would only be a matter of time before someone from last night’s events leaked what he was, and he was once again appearing in the Daily Prophet.

“No, Harry. You’re no monster, and I’m sure he knows that. Anyway, you always hated him, why do you care what he thinks?” Hermione asked softly. She thought about it for a moment before the answer hit her. “You care for him, don’t you?”

Harry nodded, his face cast in misery. He knew it was stupid, the professor hadn’t cared one whit for him as a student. Harry was sure the dour man cared even less for him now he was not only an adult, but also considered a dark creature- something that a lot of witches and wizards hated and feared. Harry cried pitifully into Hermione’s neck, sobs wracked his body before she dragged him to his room and lay next to him. She allowed Harry to cry himself to sleep in her arms before she slipped out to her own room- her mind in turmoil over what she had realised.

How long had Harry been caring for the snarky, dour, grumpy potions professor of Hogwarts? How long had he been keeping this locked away for? Hermione didn't know but she had a lot to mull over, and if Snape did go to the papers, she would need to find a way to dispel the rumours.   
It wasn’t that she was averse to people knowing what they were, but even in their world, there was still a great deal of prejudice over being a dark creature, especially a Vampire. Soulless, evil monsters with no place in their world.

She heard Harry shuffling about in his bedroom, a few wet sniffles along the way and her heart ached for him. He had so little joy in life, despite their flourishing club, shared living arrangements and occasional party to attend. But he rarely seemed to be truly happy, other than when they were doing something together. 

She had wondered in the past if Harry had been simply in denial about his feelings for her, but it was clear before long that he did not see her in any romantic light. Not that she was hurt by this. She did find Harry attractive, and he worked hard to keep his muscles intact, but she had seen him walking around naked and felt nothing.   
It amused her how many people assumed they were a couple or secretly in love with one another. No matter how many times they said that they were not a couple, it seemed people disbelieved them all the more.  
So many thoughts swirled around her mind and she struggled to process them all, things to face with what Ron did, Snape turning up, and the one conversation that Harry always avoided- finding his Sire.

After a long while, she laid her head down and fought to sleep. Something told her that this sighting of Snape would not be last, and she had the deep, foreboding sense that good things were not on the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for the long delay in posting this. I had an internet problem, life got in the way and so on. Unfortunately, the schedule I originally had planned has been blown to smithereens, so I am afraid that updates will be when I have the time.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again my darlings. Here we have chapter four. Also, for those that might be interested in the Avengers universe, I have begun posting my first attempt at one. However, if you plan to see Civil War, please don't. There are some heavy spoilers in there.
> 
> Second, as always, All Harry Potter related places, persons and things belong to JK Rowling and I have no claim over them. No copyright infringement is intended and no money is being made from this story.

Sumus Noctis  
  
Chapter Four  
  
  
Harry’s dreams were wrought with onyx eyes that judged him, sneering lips that found what he was disgusting, in whole, a man who feared and reviled him. He woke sometime in the middle of the night soaked in a cold sweat, his fear permeating the air. The very fact that he cared what the man thought of him, even in his dreams, told a lot of his supposed attempt to forget about his former professor.  
  
Seeing his ex-potions professor last night had affected him more than he’d thought. He knew that living in the magical world meant it was only a matter of time before he would have eventually bumped into him. He just hadn’t expected to see him like that, having finished feeding and leaving the unconscious woman slumped over. He doubted that Snape didn't know what he was, but an unconscious woman behind him hadn't really left much to the imagination as to what he had been doing.

Especially since the Daily Prophet still ran the occasional, speculative piece on him being a Vampire. But he wasn’t sure if Snape ever believed anything in there, or if he knew anyone in the Ministry that might have told him, especially with the very recent trial in relation to Ron’s death.  
  
He wondered if Snape still knew that he resided at Grimmauld Place and if he would send the Aurors after him. The Ministry had an agreement with the Vampires- they were aware that only human blood could sustain them for long periods of time, resulting in a Vampire only needing to feed once a week, sometimes less.   
  
So it was agreed that so long as they didn’t kill a human, they were given safe passage to feed from them- be it Muggle or magical person they fed from. But it was a tenuous agreement, and a lot of people hated that Vampires had the right to feed from them. This was why a lot of Vampires chose Muggles, that way they wouldn’t become the target of a gang of pitchfork wielding nutters.  
  
Harry felt the misery wash over him once again. He had become accustomed to the life he had been forced into, and didn’t begrudge it as much as he used to, but that didn’t mean that he liked it. He hated what he was, having to take from others without their consent. There were places that they could go, where witches and wizards were willing to let them feed from them. Some people did not detest them, and understood that there were Vampires, like Harry, who had that life forced on them.  
  
It was different for a Childe- they could be sustained by the blood of their Sire, and only needed to feed from a human once a month. Once released, they had to move to once a week, as the Bond with their Sire no longer existed. It was not as difficult for them, at least, not as much as it was for the Sire.  
  
Harry had harboured feelings for the snarky professor for some time- since his seventh year. He knew that they would never be returned, that Snape had only ever loved one person- Lily Evans. Harry was bound to live a life of solitude, with only Hermione for his companion, no matter how platonic their relationship was.  
  
And truthfully, most days he was happy with that. He and Hermione had a close friendship, a bond that traversed Sire and Childe or even siblings. It had been that way long before their blood blond and nothing could change it.  
  
Deciding to get up, he went downstairs and prepared some coffee. He settled on the couch he had lain Hermione to sleep on last night and read a book. Even though Hermione was the bookworm of the two, Harry did enjoy reading, despite every professor saying that he probably didn’t know how to open a book, let alone read one.  
  
Harry was halfway through the book when Hermione appeared, her bushy hair wild from sleep. He gestured for to take a seat next to him and poured her a cup of coffee, which she gratefully took from him. It was a popular misconception that Vampires required only blood, but in fact, they needed regular food to survive as well. They ate and drank like any normal person. It was a case of if they had to go a few days without it, then they wouldn’t starve to death.  
  
“You’re up early, Harry.” Hermione mumbled, her face scrunched up in distaste.  
  
“Speak for yourself,” Harry chuckled.  
  
Hermione laughed with him, drinking her coffee in silence and allowing Harry to return to his book. Her unspoken questions drifting around Harry like smoke, so he closed his book and turned to her with a sigh.  
  
“I can practically feel the burning need to question me, Hermione. Out with them.”  
  
“Sorry, Harry, I just wasn’t expecting you to come home so frazzled last night. Then when you said that you had seen Professor Snape and you looked so crestfallen when you said you thought he’d realised that you’d been feeding. How long have you had feelings for him, Harry?”  
  
“Since seventh year," he admitted through gritted teeth, disliking having to reveal things about himself, even though it was Hermione he was telling them to.  
  
“When in seventh year? You were adamant that he had killed Dumbledore in cold blood. I know you never cared for the old buzzard, but you are as averse to unnecessary killing as I am.”  
  
“When I went back to him in the Shrieking Shack…” Harry began to explain.  
  
“Whoa, wait, what?... Oh! It was you that saved Professor Snape!” Hermione exclaimed.  
  
“Yeah. I remembered what Professor Snape said in first year, that a bezoar will save you from most poisons, and it made me think. Snake venom is often used in poisons, so even though it was only venom in his system when Nagini attacked him, it might still work. After he gave me his memories, I went back armed with the stone and an array of potions, in case he was still alive. I doubted it since we’d left him for so long, but he was clinging on. I knew when I saw the memories that he was a good man- he was just a wayward teenager and regretted joining Voldemort almost instantly.”  
  
“Oh, Harry. I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”  
  
“How could you have, Hermione? My feelings for Snape weren’t something I shouted from the rooftops,” Harry said wryly.  
  
Hermione nodded and gave Harry a quick squeeze around his shoulders. It had been all over the Prophet that the professor had somehow survived the night of the battle. She had never known how, never once thinking that someone had gone back for him, let alone that it had been Harry.  
  
“Hermione, I know you probably don’t want to talk about it, but your flat, something needs to be done.”  
  
Hermione’s eyes widened. “I thought I could stay here as long as I wanted? I can’t go back, Harry, I just can’t!”  
  
“No, silly! I would never send you back there, not now that I know. I had always assumed it happened at Ron’s place. Why don’t you give me a list of the things you want to keep and I’ll bring them back here, and sort out a sale for the place?” He soothed, one hand covering hers.  
  
“That’d be great, Harry, thank you. I don’t think I could go back in there, even if it was to get some things," she mumbled.  
  
He passed her a piece of parchment and a quill. She wrote out a few things. Peering over her shoulder, he saw that she wanted to keep a photo album, the rest of her clothes, her books, potions kit, some pieces of jewellery and that was it. She was silent as she passed the list to him.  
  
“There is only one photo album I want- the cover is red and black, made from velvet. Any others you can leave.”  
  
“Okay, I’ll go now and I’ll be back as quick as possible. Do we have any crates left?”  
  
“Yep, there’s one in my room, just use that one, it’s empty.”  
  
Harry gave her a quick kiss on the forehead, retrieved the crate and shouted he would be back soon. He Apparated from her room straight into her flat and packed her clothes first. Her living room had three walls lined with bookcases and was bowing under the weight of all the books crammed into them.   
  
Staring around the bedroom, his throat closed and he fought back the burning rage that threatened to tear apart the entire place until there was nothing but rubble left. The bed was still the same mess it had been in when Hermione had fled, her blood staining the sheets.  
  
He could smell the blood, the fluids, even fear still filled the place. Six months hadn’t been nearly long enough for the horrors that happened there to fade. It was too much and he grabbed the rest of her things before going back to the living room, collecting everything else she had requested to keep.  
  
He shrunk the majority of things in one go and sent them into the crate. He sought the album she mentioned, glanced through the others and saw they were filled with photos of her parents. He didn’t know she had kept them- after the war she had found her parents, but hadn’t been able to undo the Obliviate she had used, so she’d left them in Australia to live their lives. He could see why she no longer wanted them- they would only cause her unnecessary pain.  
  
After he had packed everything she had listed, he banished everything else, leaving the place bare. Arriving back at Grimmauld Place, he sent the crate up to Hermione’s room. He’d let her unpack in her own time. Returning to the living room, he found her curled up asleep. _She sure does like sleeping on that couch_ , he chuckled to himself. _Might be worth just putting the damn thing in her room. Girl sleeps more on that than she does her own bed._  
  
He left her to sleep and booted up the laptop in the dining room, searching for some estate agents. Once it hit nine o’clock, he rang round them all. Choosing the one with the highest estimate, he told them to run with it. If they needed to alter their amount after they had seen the flat, they need only call him. He refused to show them around- being in there once had been too much for Harry, knowing how much pain Hermione had suffered while there.  
  
The estate agents were all staffed by magical people, so he said that he would owl over a set of keys later that morning. With that finished, he opened Google and ran a search for Severus Snape. Nothing came back _. Of course it won’t- he’s a wizard, he’s not about to appear as a Potions Master where a Muggle could come across the information!_ Harry scolded himself.  
  
“Kreacher!” Harry called out.  
  
The old house elf appeared with a crack. “Yes, Master Harry?”  


“Would you get some breakfast going please, the works?”  
  
“Yes, Master Harry,” Kreacher replied.  
  
He watched for a moment as the house elf which he had inherited along with Grimmauld Place, set about getting breakfast together. It had been a tumultuous start in the beginning, Kreacher had deliberately only partly obeyed Harry's orders and would do anything to make his life a living hell.  
  
But after coming back changed, literally, Kreacher had become more behaved. It eventually came to light that Regulus, his former master, had been attacked by a vampire not long before his death. And Kreacher had witnessed first-hand the devastation of being labelled.  
  
He was starving and suspected Hermione would be as well. He went through to the living room and found her whimpering in her sleep, rushing over he shook her awake.  
  
“Hermione! Wake up!”  
  
Jolting awake with a cry, she jumped into Harry’s arms, sobbing into his neck. “I’m sorry, Harry!”  
  
“Why on earth are you apologising?” Harry asked bewildered.  
  
“I have no idea, but I am!” She wailed.  
  
Sitting down with her in his lap, he cradled her to his chest and waited for her finish crying before he asked what she had been dreaming about.  
  
“The night Ron attacked me. Viewing the memory with Mr. Weasley must have brought it all back full force," she whimpered miserably.   
  
Holding her tight, Harry stroked her back and soothed her with soft words. Once she relaxed, he told her that breakfast was under way. She’d been about to say she wasn’t hungry when her stomach gave an almighty growl. They both burst out laughing, the sombre mood broken.  
  
“I’ve put the crate of your things in your room, and I have an estate agent dealing with the sale of your flat. Once I have a sale, I’ll put the money into your vault.” Harry brought Hermione up to speed on what he had been doing as they sat down to breakfast.  
  
“Thanks, Harry. I know it wouldn’t have been easy to go there, and I’m sorry I made you go instead, but I just can’t do it.”  
  
Harry waved her words away- he would do anything for his Childe, even things he didn’t want to do.   
  
\-----------------------------------

  
Neither of them needed to be at the club until later on. They didn’t open up until eight o’clock, but they often went in for around five, so they could take their time in setting up. Which left them with the majority of the day to themselves.  
  
“What are you going to do with your morning, Hermione?” Harry asked.  
  
“Erm… I don’t know to be honest, I might go to Diagon Alley and pick up the latest potions journal- there are a couple of new ones I want to try out.”  
  
“I’m surprised Snape didn’t scare you away from potions for life,” Harry laughed.  
  
“Come on, Harry, he wasn’t that bad. I know he was often mean to you because you weren’t paying attention, but I know why. Dumbledore had you run ragged with his stupid little missions and tests.”  
  
Harry’s still heart gave a small jolt at Hermione’s words. He knew that Snape hadn’t meant to be deliberately cruel, that Dumbledore had twisted the Unbreakable Vow he’d forced Snape to make with him when he’d begged the old man to protect Lily. Because of that vow, anything Dumbledore ordered to be done by it, Snape couldn’t refuse or he would die. Snape had only been released from it when Dumbledore had ordered Snape to kill him, the act happening at the end of Harry’s sixth year.  
  
“What about you, what are you doing with your morning?” Hermione asked.  
  
“I need to go to the wholesalers, there’s a few spirits that we’re running low on, so I’m going to stock the place up.”  
  
“While you’re there, why don’t you pick up some wine? We’re closed tomorrow so I thought we could do a movie and wine night?”  
  
Harry smiled. “Sounds good to me.”  
  
Hermione returned Harry’s smile and left to get dressed. Harry tried to wash up but when Kreacher came in mumbling how he was there to serve, he relented and allowed Kreacher to clean up after them. He hated having the house elf do everything, but he was happiest when he was doing something that meant serving them.  
  
\---------------------  
  
Hermione scanned the items that Harry had placed into the crate. Waving her wand sent her clothes drifting off to the wardrobe, and a muttered _Engorgio_ on the bookcases, once she had them placed somewhere she was happy with, set them to rights. The jewellery was put away and lastly she came to the photo album she had asked him to get.  
  
She sat on the bed and opened the book. The first photo was of her and Harry at the end of their first year. She didn’t remember where Ron had been, but she and Harry had looked so carefree and happy. Even though Harry had just thwarted Voldemort’s return to power and she had watched him walk through the flames where Snape’s riddle had been with the potions, they were untouched by the evil of it all.  
  
She flipped through the pages, her eyes avoiding any that held Ron. She would remove them later and throw them in the fire. Most of them were during their school years, the later ones showing her and Harry standing proudly outside the club they had just purchased together, she having recently been changed by Harry. Her skin had taken on a porcelain quality, her lips a bright red against the paleness of her face. The most startling feature was her hair- it was no longer the bushy mane it had always been, but was curly and sleek- only bushy when she first woke up.  
  
She heaved a sigh before choosing her clothes; a black top with navy jeans and her boots. She Apparated directly from her room to Diagon Alley- it was around ten, so it wasn’t busy yet. Her first port of call was the Magical Menagerie since she wanted a new familiar after Crookshanks. A bell tinkled overhead when she pushed the door open, and someone called out they would be with her in a moment, letting her take the time to browse the many animals they had.  
  
“Hermione?”  
  
She swung round to find a wide-eyed Luna staring at her. They both squealed in delight and ran to one another, Hermione stopping just short of Luna unsure of what to do. Not many people hugged her anymore, complaining she was cold. Luna however barrelled into her, squeezing her tightly.  
  
“It’s so good to see you, Luna.”  
  
“I’ve not seen you in forever! How are you?” Luna asked in her dreamy quality, blue eyes staring at some point behind Hermione’s head.  
  
“I’m fine thank you. I’m actually here to get a new pet. Crookshanks died a couple of years ago and I miss having a familiar.”  
  
“So the crazy hairball has passed, huh?” Luna chuckled.  
  
Hermione nodded, a wide smile on her lips. “Yep.”  
  
“Well, have a look around and give me a shout when you find something you like.”  
  
Hermione drifted off, perusing the many animals and strange creatures the menagerie housed. She didn’t want another cat, feeling like she would be replacing Crookshanks. An owl was out of the question. Harry hadn’t wanted another after he’d lost Hedwig. A toad was a no-go, she hated them, and snakes were a no way too. A dog would remind Harry of Sirius. She really was stumped for ideas when she heard a soft squawk far off in the corner. Going in search of the noise, she was greeted with a beautiful raven. Its plumage was stunning- black in one light and a sort of deep green and blue in another.  
  
“Hello. Who might you be?” Hermione asked the bird, standing by its cage.  
  
The raven gave another squawk before tottering to the edge of its cage and poking its beak through. She reached over and ran a finger over the beak, feeling a warmth radiate through her. This was what she wanted, the raven whose beak she was running a finger back and forth over.  
  
“Luna? Who’s this?” Hermione called out.  
  
Luna appeared a moment later eyeing the bird with a secretive smile on her face. “This is Graysen, he was dumped outside the menagerie door a few weeks ago and not let anyone near him since. I have to let him out to feed him, then wait for him to fly back inside his cage,” Luna sighed.  
  
“Sounds like we’ve both been put through the ringer, doesn’t it,” Hermione cooed at the bird.  
  
Graysen gave a gentle nip of her, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to let her know that he heard. Hermione knew there and then she was taking Graysen home.  
  
“I’ll take him Luna. Can you give him a note so that Harry can let him in?”  
  
Luna picked the cage and took him to the counter, passing Hermione some parchment to write her note on.   
  
_Harry, this is Graysen. Will you let him into my room and leave him with some food, please? Be careful, he was abandoned outside the menagerie and can be temperamental, so if he nips, don’t be mad with him. Hermione._  
  
She fixed the note to Graysen’s leg and gave him the address of Grimmauld Place. She watched as he flew out the open and door and sailed off. Hermione shrunk the cage and placed it in her pocket- she could set it up once she made it back home.  
  
“Keep in touch, Hermione. I worry about you and so does Neville,” Luna sighed.  
  
“You and Neville huh?” She said, catching the loved up look in Luna’s eyes.  
  
Luna gave a breathy giggle and hugged Hermione bye. She walked over to Flourish  & Blotts to get the potions journal she wanted. Locating it near the front, she paid the teller and went to the apothecary. She knew the ingredients she needed to try the new potions- she’d buy double in case any of them went wrong, so she would have enough to try again. She stopped off at Gringott’s to get some more money- potions ingredients could be very expensive, especially if they were hard to acquire.  
  
“Morning, I’d let to get into my vault, please.” Hermione spoke to the goblin at the main desk.  
  
The goblin rose and peered over the counter at her. “Miss Granger, a pleasant surprise. This way please.”  
  
The goblins cared not for what creature she was since the Ministry were even harsher to them than they were to Vampires and Werewolves. She followed the goblin to the carts that reminded Hermione of the roller coasters she used to ride at the fairground as a child. They thundered down the track before stopping at her vault, where she waited for him to open the door and stepped inside after the locks had opened.  
  
She grabbed a handful of galleons along with a few sickles and knuts. She jiggled her purse and felt the weight, deciding she would have enough for her ingredients. If she didn’t, she could always use her key to pay for the items.  
  
Hermione left Gringott’s and resumed her journey to the apothecary. It hadn’t been there for long. The old apothecary had been destroyed when Voldemort had returned to power. The new one had only been there for a few months, but she’d read in the Prophet that business there had been booming.  
  
The apothecary had no windows. Some ingredients reacted to sunlight, so only fluorescent lights could be used. Pushing open the door, she saw it was gloomy- one strip light ran the length of the ceiling, casting enough light to see where you were going and that was it.  
  
Hermione paid no mind to the man at the counter, seeing that everything was alphabetised. Excellent, this will make it much easier to find what I need. She climbed ladders, hopped on and off stools and finally found everything she needed.  
  
She approached the counter, her arms filled with ingredients. Placing everything on the counter, she dug around in her beaded bag and found her change purse.  
  
“Trying out the potions in the new journal, Miss Granger?” A velvety voice rumbled from the man behind the counter.  
  
If Hermione’s heart had been beating, she was certain it would have stopped. She slowly raised her head until her eyes found shoulder length black hair, pale, almost sallow skin, until finally they met the obsidian ones of her ex-professor.

  
“Professor Snape,” she breathed.  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well there you have it my lovelies. I truly hope you're all enjoying this so far and bear with me in how long it can take me to update. I have a fair amount of it written but I'm having to edit a lot of it since it was so long ago that I actually wrote this and since my early stage writing leaves a lot to be desired, I thought it best to make sure it read more like my usual writing :P


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I've been MIA for some time now on this one and I'm really, really sorry for that. Thank you to everyone who has waited patiently and not pestered me to update. And a massive thank you to Zadiee Lighthart for the encouraging review that brought me back to life to work on this. This chapter is for you, sweetie.
> 
> As always, I own nothing related to HP, and all the characters from that world belong to JK Rowling.
> 
> And now, enjoy!

Sumus Noctis

Chapter Five

"Professor Snape!" Hermione breathed, eyes widened in surprise.

"Yes, Miss Granger, though I am not a professor anymore." Snape drawled in his usual baritone.

"Oh, last I heard you were still at Hogwarts. When did you leave?" That had certainly been the word from Dean the last time she had seen him, but then, that had been over a year ago, before her...change.

"Last year."

Hermione nodded slowly, it at least answered in question of who owned the new Apothecary, and it would seem Snape had set up shop in Diagon Alley not too long after leaving.

"Why did you leave? I mean, I know you didn't really like teaching, but I always kind of thought you'd be there forever."

Snape chuckled, his deep voice rumbling, dark eyes assessing, as always. "How astute of you, Miss Granger. No, I never did like teaching, the only reason I stayed after the war was for Minerva. She has vacated the seat of Head Mistress. Professor Flitwick is now the Head Master."

She wasn't entirely sure how well Filius Flitwick could control an entire school of hormonal teenage children. Flitwick didn't exactly have a strong presence given he only stood at four feet tall. "Hmm… So, you set up the new Apothecary."

"Indeed. Is this all your purchases, Miss Granger?" His tone was bored, fingers drumming on the counter.

"Yes."

Snape told her the total price and she paid without a word, but as she turned to leave he called her back.

"I uh, believe I saw Mister Potter last night." It wasn't a question, but Hermione nodded anyway. "I didn't know he was still around here."

"Yes, we both own a nightclub not far from here. We opened it about six months ago." Hermione explained, a soft smile coming to her face when she thought of their little venture they had together.

"I have heard of it, Sumus Noctis, I believe it is called?" One eyebrow arched up and Hermione knew that look.

"Yes," she said, tone careful.

"Interesting choice of name for the club, Miss Granger, don't you think?" She looked at Snape as he eyed her in a calculating manner, eyes betraying nothing of what he was thinking.

"I have no idea what you mean, Professor." Hermione kept her face blank, she couldn't work out if it was a genuine question or a jibe, and she was in no way about to reveal their nature.

"Well, the Latin translation is 'we are the night'. I find it interesting that you would choose those words considering yours and Mister Potter's affliction."

Shit. He knew. She could see a flash of something she didn't like in the fathomless eyes, an almost look of pity mixed with...not quite revulsion but definitely something unpleasant. Hermione's eyes were cold as she answered him, rage burning through her.

"It is because of our affliction, as you so disgustingly put it, that we chose the name of our club, Professor. For your information, what I am is not an affliction, it is not some disease that riddles my body, nor is it something I believe I should be ashamed of. I chose this life. You would do well to remember that!" Hermione turned on her heel, but stopped her exit at his next words.

"Perhaps, but Mister Potter didn't." The normally deep voice was quiet, soft. The words barely spoken loud enough to hear but Hermione did.

She turned and stormed back to the desk, her eyes dark with anger. "You don't know a thing about Harry and what he has gone through. He may not have chosen the life of a Vampire, but he has dealt with it tremendously well. He accepts what he is, and carries on, he doesn't go around jumping any human in sight and draining them. He's worked so hard to keep what we are quiet because the public will instantly revile him, his life will once again be splashed across the front page of the Prophet and he will never know peace because there will always be hate mail or some reporter hounding him as he walks the streets because they just love to print shit about him. How dare you judge us!"

Snape sneered in her face. "I am hardly one to judge, Miss Granger. You should not be so quick to your temper."

Hermione's right hand shot out and slapped the Potions Master across the face. "You should choose your wording better. Harry's right- you never will change. You'll always be a sarcastic, lonely and horrible person. You hate the world and shun anyone who has ever shown you a shred of kindness. Harry may have hated you in the beginning, but by the end of the war, and after your near death, he changed. He's been so grateful for what you did- he stood to your defence at your hearing, never saying a bad word against you. And you just throw that back in his face by disappearing, never once thanking him for it. It is because of Harry that you are not in Azkaban, rotting in a dank cell for all the horrible deeds you committed. No one wanted to believe that you had been innocent of those crimes, but Harry was hell bent on making sure the wizarding world knew all that you had done and sacrificed to keep him alive and Voldemort from taking over our world. No one can say a mean word about you without him jumping to your defence immediately. You are a vile person, Professor Snape!"

Snape's eyes widened with every word before what little colour he did have drained from his face. Hermione didn't even wait to hear another word from him, she just left the Apothecary without a backward glance and went home. She could only hope that Harry wasn't there to see her anger or he would question her. If she told him that Snape had been horrible, he would believe it, Hermione had no reason to lie. But then he would confront Snape and she didn't want that. Harry's emotions often got the better of him, and Snape would only use Harry's feelings as a weapon to hurt and ridicule him.

She entered the silent house of Grimmauld Place and heard nothing, at least not until she called out and Graysen appeared before her and landed on her shoulder. She stroked the bird lovingly.

"Hi there, I see Harry let you in." He chirruped. "Come on, let's go sort these ingredients out, I need to calm down."

Sensing her pain, Graysen rubbed his beak against her cheek and gave a soft coo in her ear. She walked off to her lab in the basement, taking Graysen with her. She decided to sort out the ingredients, go for a bath and get ready to open the club with Harry.

-oo0oo-

Harry waited until Hermione had left before getting dressed for his day- he needed to get a substantial amount from the wholesaler. He made a mental list of everything that they needed: Ogden's Finest Fire Whiskey, Butterbeer (bottles), Vodka, Rum, Gin, Pumpkin Juice, Orange Juice, Lemonade, Cola, Energy Drinks (any). Harry liked to have Muggle drinks as well, especially with the Muggleborns. They were raised in the Muggle world for the first eleven years of their life, so it stood to reason that they would have a taste for things like Cola, Lemonade, and Orange juice. Plus, many of his wizarding customers had expressed a liking for the Muggle beverages as mixers.

Harry dressed in black jeans, grey short sleeved shirt, black leather jacket (which Harry had pinched from Sirius' room) and black boots. Looking in the mirror he eyed himself. What a way to portray the Vampire look, Harry! He chuckled to himself, he never thought he'd be the kind of person who would love wearing black, but he did, especially when he combined it with a little green.

Just as he was about to leave there was a tapping at the window in the living room. Walking in he saw a raven sitting on the ledge waiting patiently. Opening the window, he moved back for the bird to fly inside. It perched on the edge of the couch and stuck its leg out, Harry took the proffered parchment and went to stroke the bird's head. Giving a disgruntled screech, the raven nipped his finger before flying off to the other end of the room.

Harry opened the parchment and read the message. Graysen huh? Nice name. He smiled to himself. It seems fitting that a bird like Graysen would choose Hermione. Harry had never been able to understand how someone could abandon their pet or familiar, especially one as beautiful as Graysen. He didn't begrudge the bird his nip- it made sense. "I wouldn't trust easily either, Graysen."

He walked closer to the raven, keeping his hands in the air, showing he meant no harm. "You make yourself at home until Hermione returns, I need to go out."

Graysen gave a grateful squawk before soaring off somewhere upstairs. I hope that bird is house trained! Harry really didn't want to come home and have to clean raven crap up. Locking the door, he checked his wards- which were strong- and Disapparated without a sound.

He arrived a moment later at the wholesalers- Parkinson Drinks. Pansy Parkinson from Slytherin had taken over after her father's death in the war. She made a steady business, but Harry knew he was her biggest customer. Unfortunately, anyone associated with Slytherin was slurred.

Harry no longer believed in the stupid house rivalry, it had been ridiculous in school, and thought anyone who carried that idiocy on into adulthood was an ignoramus. He approached the main desk to see Pansy on the phone with someone- whoever it was, they were shouting. Even without his Vampire hearing, he would have been able to overhear the conversation with ease.

With a hissed 'Fuck you' she slammed the phone down, dropped her head into her hands and sniffled. Waiting a moment, she raised her eyes and saw Harry.

"Harry! Hi, I'm sorry, rough morning." Pansy attempted a smile.

"Don't sweat it, Pansy. Another customer giving you the run around the mill?"

"Something like that, I gave him a line of credit to get his drinks in for his pub, but now he's refusing to pay his bill because he claims he didn't know who I was. Which I find hilarious since he and dad went to school together."

"It'll get better, Pansy. Not as many people are as bitter about the war as they used to be. Hang in there. Does my shopping here help?" Harry asked, genuinely concerned.

"Yes, Harry. If I'm disgustingly honest, without your business, I'd go under. I don't want that to happen- dad built this up from nothing, he'd turn in his grave if I didn't put up a fight to keep it running." Pansy heaved a sigh.

"Hey, that's not going to happen. I'm not taking my business anywhere else, I'm more than happy with what I get here. Now, I have a shopping list for you, if you take care of that, I'll field a few calls, give you a break?"

Pansy broken into a wide smile. "You're a star, Harry, thank you!"

With that, she turned and dashed away, Harry's list in hand. The moment she was out of sight the phone rang. He steeled himself and picked up the phone.

"Good morning, Parkinson Drinks, Harry speaking." Harry greeted the bodiless customer.

"Where is that Parkinson whore? I got a letter from her saying that I owe her ten thousand galleons! I'm not paying that Slytherin slag anything!" The customer screeched.

"Well, Mr…?"

"Finnegan, Seamus Finnegan." Harry gave a feral smile, he'd always wanted a reason to get back at Finnegan for slurring him in fifth year.

"Well, Mr Finnegan, I have a signed form here saying that you were given a line of credit, of up to twenty thousand galleons, you would have one month to the date of purchase to pay any balance incurred through using that credit. If you fail to pay, then Miss Parkinson is within her rights to take this before the Ministry. And I assure you, Mr Finnegan, they will not see that Miss Parkinson being a Slytherin a good enough reason not to pay your bill. Now, as Miss Parkinson has not heard the disgusting names you called her, I am willing to allow you one more week to pay the balance, if not, then I will take this before the Ministry myself. Am I clear, Mr. Finnegan?" Harry's voice turned to a growl at the end.

"Uh… Erm… Yes uh, Harry, was it? I'll come in tomorrow and take care of it with Miss Parkinson." Harry had to force down the laugh that threatened to take over.

"See that you do, Mr Finnegan. I'd hate to appear before the Ministry with your pathetic reasons." With that, Harry put the phone down and allowed the laugh he'd held in burst forth.

He was still laughing five minutes later when Pansy returned, Harry's items floating behind her. She gave him a quizzical look, but waited until his guffaws had ended.

"Sorry, Pansy. I just had the pleasure of talking with Seamus Finnegan. He'll be coming in tomorrow to pay up." Harry winked.

Pansy gaped at him. "I've been trying for weeks to get him to pay! What did you do?"

"I told him that you being a Slytherin wasn't a good enough excuse to not pay, so I would take it before the Ministry as you have a signed agreement from him. Plus, I have been looking for a reason to make him miserable since our fifth year and I finally got that chance."

Pansy laughed with him, before transferring the items floating around her to Harry. He waved his hand and the items once more began to drift in the air. They had a quick catch up chat before Harry felt an immense rage pour through the bond.

"I'm sorry, Pansy, I need to leave." Harry frowned.

"Hermione?" Pansy asked softly, dark eyes soft with concern.

He nodded, hugged her goodbye and stalked out of the building Apparating directly into Grimmauld Place. Everything he had bought slipped to the floor before he strode to the lab, finding Hermione sat at her workbench, crying softly with Graysen twittering around her.

He gently shooed off the bird, needing to get close to Hermione. He eyed her over, checking for any external injuries, but finding none. Puzzled as to why she was crying, he knelt before her and placed his index finger under her chin, forcing her head up to meet his eyes.

"What's the matter, Hermione?" His voice was gentle, but demanded an explanation.

"It's nothing, Harry, I bumped into someone from the past, some harsh words were thrown around and I guess it just kind of got to me. I'm sorry you rushed home."

"I didn't rush as such. Pansy and I were just rounding off our conversation anyway. Who was it you bumped into?"

"Just someone from Hogwarts, you know very few people from there got on with me, it just shook me up is all. I wasn't expecting to see them. I'm fine, Harry, honest. I'm going to take a bath and get ready to open up." Hermione gave Harry a watery smile before leaving the lab. He glanced around at the raven that had looked at her back before turning to face Harry.

"What do you think, Graysen? Should I push this or leave it alone?" Harry sighed.

The bird hopped over, nipping Harry's fingers and gave a soft squawk. "You think I should leave it?" The bird nipped him harder. "Okay, I get it, I should push it. But not right now, maybe later, while we're setting up."

Graysen gave one last cry before flying out of the basement, no doubt to go find Hermione. That bird really does care for her, Harry mused. He was grateful that she had someone other than himself, Harry wasn't always around and sometimes he worried that she got lonely.

-oo0oo-

Hermione went off upstairs, set the bath going and walked back in to find Graysen sitting on the sink eyeing her. He really is a clever bugger. She didn't need to call to him, he knew when she wanted or needed him. She started to strip off and Graysen flew out of the room with a soft cry- she shrugged her shoulders and sighed as she lowered herself into the water. It seemed hot against her cold skin, but then anything warm felt at a much higher temperature than it would have when she was human.

The heat wasn't painful, in fact, she welcomed it. The smell of lavender permeated the air from the bath salts that she had used since being a teenager. Hermione allowed herself to soak for a while after washing her hair, then climbed out knowing she needed to get ready for the afternoon. Casting a wandless Tempus, she saw it was already two o'clock, she still had two hours, but they would need some lunch before they left.

She went through to her room clad in her towel, Graysen was sat on top of her wardrobe, once more eyeing her. She understood his behaviour- despite their instant bond, Graysen was still wary of her. He had been hurt already when his previous owner had abandoned him outside the Menagerie. If that had happened to her, she would have been the same.

"Come on, Graysen, help me choose something to wear tonight," she called to the beautiful raven. He gave a caw, flapped down to her shoulder and perched lightly enough to not dig his claws into her skin.

She rubbed a finger through the feathers on his head, the bird's eyes closing and leaning into the gentle touch. When done he pecked her ear very gently and flew down to her bed, eyeing the wardrobe as if actually prepared to help her pick clothes. "Did Harry tell you to come look after me?"

Graysen just plucked the feathers under his wing and flapped them out a couple of times so the dead ones fell out. Hermione laughed and snagged them, laying them on her desk to make new quills. Thankful that Harry hadn't pushed what had happened, she started moving clothes about until she found something to wear, checking if her new feathered friend agreed.

A soft caw at her choice in dress told her all she needed, Graysen obviously approved of the knee-length deep red dress. "You have excellent taste, my lovely," she cooed to the raven. Checking her imagine in the mirror she smiled, feeling more herself and the bond between her and Harry sung happily. "Time to party," she murmured.

She set up Graysen with food and water, left the window open in case he wanted to go for a fly and left her room. She met Harry in the kitchen and quickly made them some lunch, she could see the questions in his green eyes but refused to answer them, instead giving him a peck on the cheek.

"What's that for?" He said with a chuckle.

"No reason, just expressing my adoration for my beloved brother."

Harry rolled his eyes at the words but blew her a kiss back, tucking into his sandwich with a grin and laughing as she danced around the kitchen singing at the top of her lungs. He'd forgotten all about her earlier emotions that he'd felt through the bond and for the moment, life was once again brilliant.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, back again with a second update for you. I want to apologise again for being gone for so long on this, life has really grabbed me by the metaphorical testicles and it’s been squeezing. 
> 
> This chapter is for my good friend Black Paradise, who is currently battling a nasty bout of flu and I think could use a little pick-me-up. Get well soon sweetness!
> 
> As always, nothing Harry Potter belongs to me and I make no money from this story.

Sumus Noctis

Chapter Six

Harry arrived at the club before Hermione and set about getting everything ready for the night ahead- they would be closed tomorrow, so no doubt it would be packed. Everyone seemed to flood to the club whenever they were closed for the next day, or if they decided to shut up shop for a week- sometimes even Vampires needed a break from constant work, it was tiring keeping long hours when you ran a club.

It wasn’t too long before he heard the sound of the heavy front doors clanging shut and peered over the bar to find his much happier co-owner striding in wearing the red dress he had seen her in at lunch, her hair bounced behind her and her lips had been painted with a pale gloss.

“Well blow me down with a feather, don’t you scrub up good,” he called over with a whistle and a wink.

She twirled and did a little curtsy. “Well, at least I know how to look good without wearing all black.”

He gave her the finger and they both laughed while she helped Harry stock up the optics, shelves and fridges with everything that he had bought at the wholesalers that morning. Hermione finished first and cleaned down all the tables of any dust they might have gathered and used a quick Scourgify on the floor. The black tiles were embedded with flecks of various colours that when the strobe lights hit them would give off a gentle sparkle.

Harry went up onto the upper balcony and into his office to do a quick update on his paperwork, making sure he placed the invoice for the drinks purchased into the ‘to be paid’ file, to take care of the next time they were open. Firing up the PC kept in there, he checked out the website and made a few changes; he added some information on some new drinks they were thinking of adding to their lists, and created a quick form for customers to fill in with any requests they might have. He then added some new photos of the club- he liked to change them around.

He had Flitwick to thank for the PC working under the amount of magic that was thrumming through the place. Finally, the Charms Master had found a way for electronics to run despite all the magical energy interfering with them. Now Harry could have anything he wanted in the club and it wouldn’t have the batteries drained in seconds or the electrics sputter and die out within minutes.

Checking the time and seeing it was gone half seven, he shut down the PC and went to join Hermione at the bar- they always started their night with a drink together. It was a tradition they kept from day one of opening. Usually it was a shot of whatever they had strongest to see who ended up pulling the worst face when the fire of the liquor hit them. 

“What’s your choice of poison, ma’am?” Harry asked with a sly grin.

“Why, good sir, a woman of my stature does not drink poison, she drinks something that is an art form.” Hermione sniggered.

“Forgive me, what is your choice of art then?”

“Ogden’s of course.”

Harry always enjoyed their playful banter- smiling, he poured them both a glass of Ogden’s Finest both taking a sip and grimacing at the burn in their stomachs. It was one liquor that Harry had never developed a taste for. They laughed at each other’s faces and they sat at the bar chattering away. Harry still wanted to know what had upset Hermione so much earlier in the day, but decided to wait until the end of the night- he didn’t want to ruin the good mood they both were in.

The half hour they had left passed quickly, Harry asked Hermione to set up one of the music playlists that had been specially selected by them both for the club, a mixture of dark, fast paced music, some releases by the latest artists for the younger clubbers and some metal songs. The playlist was one of five, and each held over two-hundred songs so no clubbers could ever complain it was always the same music. One thing Harry had hated the few times he had entered Muggle nightclubs to get an idea of what his should be. 

Harry went to unlock the main doors, allowing the clubbers already lined up to enter. He checked IDs and made sure no one was already too heavily intoxicated or under the influence of any narcotics. The doormen wouldn’t be on until around ten, that’s when they really started to get busy and they would be filled to capacity around eleven. Once all those queued had entered, he set a ward over the entrance to scan for any drugs, and no one under the age of eighteen could gain entry. They would just suddenly change their minds and leave.

With his first lot of customers already served and dancing out on the floor, Harry surveyed the club and checked all was in order. He couldn’t see anything amiss, everyone looked happy and there were no troublemakers. He caught Hermione’s attention and motioned that he was going out for a smoke, two fingers to his lips. She smiled and nodded, waving her hand for him to go ahead. 

Slipping out the back door, Harry lit a Mayfair and inhaled deeply as the smoke hit his lungs. He blew a stream of blue smoke and thought back on today. Pansy would call if she needed anymore help with customers refusing to pay. Despite being what he was, there were still people in the Ministry who thought highly of Harry, and would listen if he suggested that some people get prosecuted for refusing to pay their bills.

His mind turned to Hermione- it still bothered him what could have caused such a volatile reaction in her. Very few people had the power to rile her up, she was always so calm and level-headed. She was the more rational of the two of them. Harry shrugged, there was nothing he could do about it until the end of the night. He finished his cig, crushed it against the sole of his boot and dropped it into the cig bin he kept out there.

Walking back into the club, he saw Hermione leaning against the bar- everyone was out on the dance floor or up on the balcony watching the others. They would be able to take it easy for a while, before the place got busy. 

\---oo0oo---

Hermione waved her hand at Harry, knowing that he wanted to go for a cig. The place wasn’t busy, so it wasn’t like he was leaving her when they were six people deep to the bar, and she knew it was something he did when he was troubled or needed to think.

She thought back on her run in with Professor Snape and couldn’t believe how cold his words had been, like it was Harry’s fault that they were Vampires. Yes, she had chosen the life of one, and it was a choice she was more than happy with. But for Harry, he had been turned against his will and had woken alone with no idea what had happened to him.

Hermione knew she would need to return to the Apothecary in a few days to restock on the rest of her ingredients. She could have words with him then and make him aware that she wouldn’t tolerate further unkind words- she could threaten to warn others against using his Apothecary, or she could hex him and never go back. She preferred the first option- after all, she wanted to know what he really thought of them. Maybe it had just been a knee-jerk reaction to seeing her. She had been his most disliked student next to Harry.

She didn’t really think that it would do any good, but something else was niggling in the back of her mind. Snape was the only accomplished Potions Master left in Britain- was it possible that he had been the creator of the Blood-Reversal Potion that Ron had used on her? She had seen it in the journal she’d bought that morning, but the creator had been listed under ‘anonymous’.

Vampires had been around for centuries, so why now? Why create a potion that could reverse the bite of a Vampire after all this time? It bothered Hermione a great deal, because it meant either someone had made it to help them, or to prevent the changing of anymore Vampires. Meaning they would eventually become an extinct race.

Hermione saw Harry enter the club again from the corner of her eye and smile. How different her life had been until she had found him again. He had dropped off the face of the earth after the war had ended and she had searched for months to find him, only succeeding when she received an invite to go see Bill in Romania. Hermione had found Harry there, changed, terrified and unsure of what to do with his life from there. She had brought him back to England with her, and from there they had pulled their money together and opened Sumus Noctis- We Are the Night.

From thereon in, they had gone from strength to strength. Business was brilliant and they had a good life together. Then Ron had turned up for her, she had lost contact with him while she’d searched for Harry. Their friendship had been strained at best, Ron harbouring feelings for her when Hermione had none for him. He had never let it go, always appearing at her door to talk.

Hermione shook her head and pulled herself away from the past, there was no use in thinking about Ron, it only served to upset her and remind of things she wanted to forget. 

Time passed and the doormen walked through to let them know they were in. She watched as Harry greeted them both and offered them a drink as always, which they refused as per usual. They occasionally popped in for a lemonade or pumpkin juice. Their purpose was more to stop people coming in with unwanted substances than damage control. Harry was more than able to handle any problems that arose.

\---oo0o---

The night progressed and they were full to bursting point, Harry worked on and sent Hermione for regular breaks. She would go out onto the floor so she didn’t wear herself out. He knew that she liked the odd dance with some of the customers, and to talk to a few of the regulars.

There was a slight lull in serving and Harry took the time to clean the ledge behind him. Catching sight of someone at the bar he turned without fully looking at them to ask what they wanted to drink.

A deep voice rang out. “Ogden’s, with ice if you please, Mister Potter.”

Harry’s breath caught in his throat and he raised his moss-green eyes to the obsidian ones of Severus Snape. “Professor, Snape.” Harry acknowledged.

He retrieved the drink for him and took the money from his palm, his hands warm against Harry’s cold one. He couldn’t understand why the man had shown up all of a sudden, a nightclub certainly didn’t seem to be the sort of place that Snape would go to. 

“Interesting place you run here, Mister Potter. Rather intriguing name for it.” Snape raised the glass of Firewhiskey to his lips. 

“If you look at it from a certain point of view, Professor.” Harry’s voice was flat.

“Indeed. Miss Granger tells me you own this place together.”

“We do.” Harry was cautious in his answers, he had no idea what the Potions Master was fishing for, and he really didn’t want to give away anything in case he did see Harry feeding. The man had hated him for years, it wouldn’t take much for him to go running to the Prophet. 

“I had a rather interesting run in with her this morning.”

It all clicked into place for Harry, Hermione’s rage, the crying in the basement. A deep-seated anger burning away in his gut, his face twisting from its former blank expression to one of distaste. 

“You’re the one that upset her so much.” Harry said coldly.

“I wouldn’t put it that way, we both said some rather choice words. She seemed to think I was slating the name of your club, considering what you both are.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, hand under the bar and fingering his wand. “And what, precisely, are we?”

“Night creatures.”

Harry’s temper reached boiling point, in his peripheral vision he saw Hermione round the bar and dump a load of bottles into the bin. She stopped when she saw Harry, the dark look on his face and made to say something but he’d already vaulted the bar and had Snape’s robes in a vice grip.

“We are not night creatures, Snape! Vampires are perfectly capable of walking around in daylight, as you saw yourself when Hermione saw you. If I ever again have to deal with her crying in my house because of something you said to her, I will happily rip your throat out!” Harry hissed.

Snape didn’t recoil, he laughed in Harry’s face. “Please, Mister Potter, you do not scare me. Idle threats will get you nowhere.”

“My threats aren’t idle, Snape. No one, not even you, gets away with hurting my Childe!”

“Your Childe?” A look of confusion crossed Snape’s face. 

“I’m sure you are more than aware of who turned Hermione, she stays and so is my Childe until such a time that I release her.”

“I am well aware of the physics of Sire and Childe, Potter, don’t insult my intelligence!” He snarled.

“Then don’t insult mine by hurting her. Hermione has been the one constant since my own change. Ron tried to hurt what was mine and look what happened to him!”

\---oo0oo---

Snape’s eyes widened. He had read up on the hearing of Potter and Granger, the verdict of Weasley’s death and been classed as accidental. Is he hinting that he killed him? Snape never thought Potter had the kill instinct in him, but then again, he was a Vampire now, and he was certain Potter killed on a regular basis despite the law put in place by the Ministry.

“The Prophet said Weasley’s death was accidental, Potter. You don’t have it in you to kill.”

Harry laughed and his lips turned in a sneer, the tips of his fangs showing. “You shouldn’t believe everything you read in the papers, Snape. I could have prevented Ron’s death, but I chose not to. He was a threat to me and Hermione, so I removed him from our lives.”

Snape stumbled back as Harry released him, hearing Harry’s hiss to leave them alone and disappearing back behind the bar. He saw Granger had been watching the whole conversation between them. He saw her shake her head softly, her eyes filled with sadness.

What in the name of Salazar has she got to be sad about? He saw Granger pull Potter into a hug. She said something to him and he nodded, giving her a brief smile. He turned to leave and walked up the balcony- before he disappeared behind a door, Potter turned and looked down at him. Snape was surprised to see tears glistening in the eyes that reminded him so much of Lily Evans, a sadness so gut-wrenching Snape lost the ability to breathe for a moment.

Then he was gone, the door closed. Even over the pounding music Snape heard things being smashed. Something had riled him up, but Snape could not begin to fathom what would have affected him so greatly that he would destroy his own room. Swallowing his drink in one, he stalked back to the bar.

“Granger!” He shouted over the music.

Hermione sauntered over, her eyes hard and cold. “What, Snape?”

“Did Potter really not stop Weasley’s death?”

She blinked a moment. “Did Harry tell you that?”

“Not in so many words, but the implication was there. Is it true?” Th need to know was overwhelming. He remembered waking in the hospital wing and the way many had described the haunted look Potter had about him after killing the Dark Lord. 

“What reason has he got to lie to you?” She sighed.

With a nod, he left the building and walked out into the cool night air, his thoughts all over the place. If Potter really had killed Weasley, then he wasn’t averse to removing any threats to their lives. Does he see me as a threat? Is that why Granger was so upset? Is she afraid that I’ll somehow disturb their peaceful little life? Snape sneered to himself, it was ridiculous, and he didn’t care about Potter or Granger, nor their life. He wanted nothing more than to run his Apothecary and enjoy life for a while. He no longer had any masters to serve- he was free for the first time in over forty years. Stop lying to yourself! You do care. Snape quelled the voice in his head, telling himself to stop being an idiot.

\---oo0oo---

Harry had turned at the last moment and looked at Snape, knowing there were tears in his eyes and feeling such pain and humiliation at himself. How could someone like him ever care for a thing like me. He turned and disappeared inside his office, releasing the breath he had been holding in. His sorrow quickly switching to anger. He strode across the room, grabbed the PC off the desk and threw it against the floor. He smashed anything that he could get his hands on before collapsing into the desk chair, head in his hands and sobbed.

Harry hadn’t felt pain like that in such a long time, not since he had been in Romania with Bill and Fleur, his head ablaze with so many questions. Bill had been able to answer some of them, though not many. Not the most important one- who had changed him? He knew it had to be someone who disliked him, in order for him to have been left to wake alone, scared of what he had become. It was something only a cruel person would do.

Harry pulled himself together, stopped crying and surveyed the damage. Thank the Gods I’m a wizard, Hermione would kill me if she saw all this. Harry waved his hand and whispered ‘Reparo!’ Everything that was broken mended itself before returning to its original place. Anyone who walked in wouldn’t know of the destruction that had been evident moments ago.

He left the office and returned to the bar to help a very flustered Hermione. He apologised for his behaviour and thanked her for handling the bar while he sorted himself out, the bar was overrun with people wanting drinks and guilt washed over him. Whether Snape was in or not, he had no right to leave Hermione to run the bar alone when they were at full capacity. 

“Are you okay, Harry?” Hermione spoke a moment later, once the queue of mildly disgruntled party goers had died down.

“Yes. I’m alright, he caught me by surprise is all. I’ll be fine.” Harry sighed, his head giving a mighty thump and pain building behind his eyes. He needed to feed again and it concerned him it was so soon since his last one. Perhaps he’d burned through more energy and this was the result, especially when his emotions had been running high and the feelings he had experienced from Hermione through their bond.

He rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose to try and stave off the headache that was building. Right now, he needed to focus on being on the bar to help Hermione, he couldn’t leave her again.

\---oo0o---  
Hermione looked her best friend over, his eyes were red from crying. She heaved a sigh, sadness filled her unbeating heart as she felt Harry’s pain and self-loathing through the bond. She decided she would pay Severus Snape a visit tomorrow- he needed a serious dressing down. Maybe hearing a little of Harry’s past would make him wake up and smell the coffee. He seemed to harbour a lot of ill will for her own kind, and she had no idea why.

She was determined she would find out what his problem was. If he was going to be popping up now, then she was going to set some boundaries to ensure he would not be aggravating Harry all the time. Hermione knew she had to play it carefully, she could not in any way reveal even a hint of Harry’s feelings for their former professor.

The betrayal that Harry would feel terrified Hermione, she would not risk her relationship with him for anything. He was far too important to her to even consider interfering and trying to get Snape on side. No, best to find out what his problem was and then make sure he was not going to be an issue. 

With that decided, Hermione spent the rest of the night keeping an eye on Harry while she kept their customers happy. He was her only focus to make sure Harry was okay to be ready to deal with any backlash of Snape’s appearance. There was bound to be some, and she knew it was only a matter of time before it spilled out.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry sees Severus at the apothecary where he works, and has an interesting conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys I’m back!! Sorry for the delay, I’ve been working on my Avengers fic and unfortunately, I have this nasty habit of crossing storylines and getting confused so it’s best I just work on one at a time.
> 
> So, let us begin. As always, everything Harry Potter belongs to the wonderful JK Rowling, I just tinker with her toys for my own pleasure.

Sumus Noctis

Chapter Seven

When the ward over his shop door tripped, Severus did not expect to see Potter stood there, he had expected to see the know it all storming in. Instead, Potter walked around, looking decidedly lost as he tried to find what he needed. 

He watched him wandering around and muttering to himself before his patience ran out. “For the love of Merlin, Potter, what are you looking for?” He barked.

Potter stumbled mid-step and narrowed his eyes in annoyance. “Do you speak to all your customers like that?”

Severus drummed his fingers on the counter impatiently. “Only the ones who blunder around like idiots. Tell me what you are looking for.”

He handed over a small list and stood at the counter, boot tapping against the floor. The nerves were rolling off him in waves, it was clear Potter did not want to be there, but Severus could not resist the chance to make him uncomfortable for a little longer, so he took his time. 

When he finally had the ingredients listed, he started using parchment and quill to tally them all up. He noticed Potter getting more agitated until he finally slammed his fist on the counter top. “You know much it all is! I’ve wracked it up three times already!”

Severus raised a brow and stared a moment. “If you wish to take your custom elsewhere, Mr. Potter, it would not bother me in the slightest.”

Potter rolled his eyes but shook his head. “Take your time, please, it’s not like I’ll die anytime soon.”

“Indeed, eternity with you on this planet is really quite daunting.”

Potter’s eyes flashed but he looked away and cleared his throat quietly. Severus returned to his parchment but stopped mid-scratch of his quill. “Why are you here, Potter? You were inept at potions in school and I very much doubt becoming a Vampire has made you any better.”

A grunt sounded before he answered. “Hermione wanted to come, but I talked her out of it so she wouldn’t end up making you a donor.”

Severus paled slightly but managed to keep his emotions in check. “Well, don’t expect a round of applause, Potter. You’re not exactly averse to making someone your donor.”

The green eyes narrowed, his mouth twisting in anger. “Don’t even think of talking about things you couldn’t begin to understand! You might prefer me to starve and die, but I’ll burn myself alive before I let Hermione starve. I have to feed in order to feed her.”

Severus snarled and slammed his fist on the counter, the ink well jumped and tipped over, coating the parchment in black ink. “You do not have the right to take from another without permission!”

Potter laughed coldly. “Oh yes, I can see it now. Excuse me, Muggle, do you mind if I snack on your throat? Oh, you won’t die, I promise, I just need to take some of your precious life’s blood to live.”

It infuriated him how right Potter was, Severus knew he could never feed in the magical world or all and sunder would know what he was. “It is entirely beside the point, Potter!”

“No, it isn’t. I left her just as others came out, knowing full well she would be found and taken home or to hospital. Either way, she was completely safe and won’t remember a thing. Far as she will recall, she passed out drunk.”

Severus couldn’t deny the woman was heavily intoxicated, he had been watching her knock back shot after shot at the pub. He couldn’t even say why he was so angry on her behalf, but he was. “You don’t seem to grasp the point, Potter. She did not willingly donate, and the Minister has created Muggle donor centres where the blood is transported to points where any Vampire can go and get a bag, free of charge.”

“And you are also missing the point, those areas are manned my magical people. People who would turn my story over to the papers with minimal effort. I would be forced to flee and leave the country, dragging Hermione with me. We’d lose the club, a business we built from scratch, and we’d have to leave the few friends we have left behind.”

“How did it happen?” Severus asked, blurting the question out before he could stop himself.

Potter stared at him in surprise. “What?”

Severus felt his cheeks warm slightly. “When the battle ended, no one knew where you went. You were there for a few days and then gone, then you turned back up here, years later.”

He shrugged, toed his boot against the floor and sighed heavily. “After the battle, I didn’t want to stick around. For years I’d been trained to be this perfect little weapon, a means to an end. What was it you said? ‘Raised as a pig for slaughter.’” Potter looked away a moment and cleared his throat. “Once it was done, and Voldemort was dead, everyone wanted to shake my hand and praise me for committing murder.”

Severus shook his head, his voice soft. “You did what was necessary, Potter. The Dark Lord was prepared to murder thousands to get what he wanted, he killed school children and had no qualms with doing so.”

“I know, but that’s not the point. You’ve never had to take a like, Snape, you couldn’t begin to understand how it feels. So, I left, when it got to be too much I just disappeared. I travelled for a while, and ended up in Romania. It happened in the middle of the day, but there must have been a spell in place because no one saw a thing, no one came to help.”

“Probably some form of Notice-Me Not or a ward of some description,” Severus offered.

Potter nodded. “Yeah, I imagine so. I don’t really remember much. I was grabbed and dragged into an alley, there was a searing pain in body, like I was on fire, and then nothing. When I woke up, I was so thirsty, and nothing I drank helped.”

He waited patiently for Potter to go on, enthralled in the story of how he had gone from innocent teenager to hardened Vampire. 

“I passed a guy in the street and he bumped into me, before I knew what I was doing, I’d pulled him into an alley- how ironic- and used a sleeping draught on him. I bit his neck and it was like being in the desert for days and being given a lake to drink from. I drank until I was full, but I didn’t know when to stop. I drained that poor man until there was nothing left. I was a killer,” he said in a whisper. 

Severus felt a twinge of guilt at attacking Potter for drinking from the intoxicated woman. He had no idea how awful it must have been to wake up completely changed and within hours from waking, he had taken the life of an innocent man who had just had the misfortune of bumping into Potter accidentally.

“It didn’t take long someone to realise something was amiss when people kept complaining of black spots on their memories, and pretty soon I had an entire town looking for me, trying to find out who was preying on them. I still don’t know how it happened but I found Charlie, or at least, he found me. Charlie took me in, became my donor, taught me everything I needed to know, and made sure I was safe. He tried to find out who had done this to me, but nothing ever came of it. Whoever it was, they were long gone.”

“Potter…I’m sorry,” Severus said quietly.

“Don’t be,” Potter said with a shrug. “Just how it is. The most important thing is that I’m doing the best I can with the cards I’ve been dealt. Charlie taught me to take from people who wouldn’t remember, or were willing. Like the drunken lady, she was wasted and would have no recollection, a little pinch of a nerve in the back of the neck and she was out cold.”

Severus raised a brow. “Willing donors?”

Potter laughed softly. “You would be amazed at the number of Muggles who worship Vampires and enjoy being drank from during uh…relations,” he trailed off.   
“I see,” Severus coughed. “So, are you still searching for your Sire?”

Potter shook his head. “No, that’s a dead trail. Charlie kept looking even after Hermione brought me back, but he’s found nothing. With no witnesses and no history of Vampires being there at that time, there’s nothing to go on.”

To busy himself, Severus safely packed up Potter’s ingredients and handed them over, taking the payment from him. “I do not have the skills of Mr. Weasley, but if you wanted some help on the search, should you wish to restart it, I can ask around. Being of a darker circle of friends, it would not be too difficult to get an ear to the ground.”

“Uh…sure. If I do want to try again, I’ll let you know. I need to get going, Hermione wanted these over an hour ago.”

Severus checked the clock on the wall and realised he and Potter had been there for a couple of hours. “Of course. Goodbye, Potter.”

The brat waved as he left and Severus found himself angered on his behalf at the fate which had befallen the young hero. Tasked with saving the Wizarding World from just over a year old, his life continually splashed over the Prophet and even after he had saved them, everyone thought they had a right to know what The-Boy-Who-Lived was doing with his life.

It was a raw deal, and Severus understood why the young man had become so jaded towards others, why he had his little bubbled with Granger, their club and a tiny circle of friends, those who undoubtedly knew of his status but cared not one whit. Idea forming, Severus shut the shop for the day and disappeared into the back.

\---oo0oo---

Harry returned home immediately and found Hermione in the basement working on another potion from the latest journal. He handed over the ingredients without a word and sat on the stool she had set aside for him when he was hovering around.

He noticed that she didn’t pay him any mind, totally focused on her potion, not that he was particularly bothered. He could wait until she found a spot where she would be able to divert her attention. He knew there was no point in disappearing until later, she would find him and demand the answers anyway.

The bubbling of the cauldron and steady chopping of ingredients went on for a solid half hour before Hermione turned her attention to him, her face creased in worry lines. “How did it go?”

He huffed a laugh. “Well, I came back so he hasn’t chopped me up to use as potions ingredients, and the Prophet isn’t camping outside our home so he hasn’t gone running to them.”

She offered him a wry smile. “Obviously.”

Harry sighed and rolled his shoulders, easing some of the tension. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Hermione. It went about as well as could be expected. He drove me nuts, was rude to me, and then he asked me how this all came about.”

There was a pause where Hermione blinked continually, her mouth flapping but failing to form words.

“I know, right? So, I gave him as much detail as I could, which is pretty much everything that I know considering there’s so little of it. Then he offered to help find my Sire.”

The flapping continued, her fingers wringing at the hem of her shirt. 

“I said thanks and left. I think he had a bit of a wake-up call after went off on one about the woman I drank from. Yeah, he saw me. And then to find out that when I was changed suddenly and woke up completely afraid, that I drained someone because I had no idea how to stop drinking once I’d started.”

Hermione chewed her lip and sighed. “Harry, I know you care about him, but was it really a good idea to let him know that you uh…that you were responsible for a mass panic in Romania? That is a lot of power you’ve just given him, not only over your future but Charlie’s as well. He helped you, and that means he lied for you as well when you were being hunted.”

Harry nodded and smiled. “I trust him, Hermione. As cold as you’ve seen him be, I think today gave him some perspective. To realise that we aren’t monsters, that I’m not out draining every person I come across. That I only eat what I need to survive.”

She got up and knelt at his feet, her small hands grasping his tightly. “If you’re sure, Harry. Just remember that there is a very strong chance that you aren’t going to get your feelings returned.”

He shrugged and squeezed her hands. “I know, I just don’t want him believing that we’re monsters, that we do as we please with no concern for boundaries or rules.”

She nodded and pressed a kiss to the knuckles of both hands. “Okay, Harry. Whatever you think is best.”

Worry still creased her face but Harry was getting used to the look, it seemed she wore it more often than ever of late. He brushed his hand over her cheek and cupped it. “What would I do without you?”

Hermione snorted and got to her feet, returning her attention to the potion. “Probably wither into a husk and be lonely without my bright presence.”

Harry left the lab laughing, his heart feeling lighter than it had since Snape had seen him outside the pub, drinking from the drunken woman. He wanted to see him again, but on a more even setting, perhaps he could pop into the shop and ask him out for a drink, that would be a good place to start he reckoned.


End file.
